Epilogue
Lexa
Aiden had a habit of watching me sleep, and I sometimes wondered if that was how he spent his nights. I opened my eyes to find him at it again, and I buried my face against his chest and fought the urge to wake.
“Rise and shine, sleepyhead.” He kissed my hand and then rolled me off of him, only to rest on his elbows above me.
As I looked up into his eyes, I couldn’t believe it had been almost a year since we’d met. Things were going better than ever between us, but I was still holding my breath for a proposal and turning blue. Bre assured me it would happen, and I had to wonder if he’d talked to her about it. I’d tried to pry it out of her more than once, but she denied any involvement in such conversations.
He stared down at me with his own sleepy eyes, and I couldn’t imagine waking up to anyone else. He was my perfect match, and he’d made my life so much better that I sometimes needed to pinch myself to make sure it wasn’t a dream.
His phone made a buzzing, and he reached across to the nightstand and let out a curse. “Fucking Layne. He wants me to come up and get the rest of my father’s things. Seems he had a storage closet there. Who knew?”
“Do you ever regret giving him the business?” I stroked his cheek and closed my eyes.
“Not one bit. I’ve got everything right here in this house, everything that I’ll ever need. Including you.”
“So, we don’t have to go out to dinner tonight with my parents?” I’d been trying to talk him out of that little dinner date since he broke the news to me. I’d wanted the two of us to have a nice romantic dinner for two to celebrate our year together, but since it was also the anniversary of our families reuniting, as well as the official conception of the foundation, he wanted to celebrate by taking us all out to dinner.
“We do. We can’t back out on them now. Besides, your mother said she had some exciting news.” He shrugged his shoulders, and I narrowed my eyes. That didn’t make any sense.
“And, when did my mother say that?” It seemed she would have told me before telling Aiden, though I do think she had started to like him best. I tapped my finger on his chest as I waited for his answer, but he kissed me instead, pressing himself hard against me. I pushed him back and rolled over. “I’m waiting for your answer.”
“Don’t be difficult tonight, okay? We’re going to a nice dinner, and that’s all you need to worry about.” That was his polite way of saying that’s all I needed to know. He wasn’t going to fool me. He had something up his sleeve. The last thing I wanted was a surprise of any kind, but more than that, I didn’t want to ruin anything Aiden had planned. He loved to do things for me, and I had learned to let him.
It was his way of taking care of me, and while I wasn’t about to get into another argument with him about how independent I was, I’d learned to pick my battles and let him feel in charge.
It’s funny how when you love someone so much, you learn to let them have their way. The truth was I had learned to love it. I wouldn’t take that kind of shit from anyone else, of course, but Aiden was mine and I was his. I loved being his.
“Yes, sir,” I rolled my eyes and giggled.
“I’ll give you something to giggle about.” He tickled my sides, and I went into a fit of laughter so hard I had to warn him off.
“You can’t tickle a person first thing in the morning.” I nudged him away and sat up.
He rose up behind me and planted a kiss on my shoulder. “Mattie’s making breakfast for us this morning, so we better get ready and go down.”
I knew better than to argue about Mattie waiting on me. She’d been part of the package deal, and I had to respect the lady’s livelihood. Besides, it was nice having the extra hand around the house. It wasn’t like I could handle it alone with all those rooms, half of which I’d only been to the door of during my tour.
I’d turned one of them into a sitting room where I could work on the foundation in peace, far away from anyone else, but Aiden had learned that I was a pushover when it came to his ability to distract me from my work.
“Then I’m going to hurry up in the shower, so yours doesn’t get cold on you.” I jumped up and raced him to the shower, but he met me in there and slowly washed me from head to toe. He worked me up to such a thick lather I had to remind him that we were in a hurry and our food was getting cold.
Minutes later, we were dried off and dressed and headed off to the kitchen where Mattie was finishing up our meal. She’d baked a breakfast casserole that had become one of my favorites.
“Pete Jr. is going to be making a trip to the nursery next week and wanted to know if there are any special requests. He’s going to rework the flower beds out front and replace a few of the plants that aren’t thriving. He should be around to talk to later.” Mattie stepped over to the small table by the window that overlooked the oaks, and that’s when I realized she was talking to me. “He said he’ll get anything you want.”
“Oh, thanks, but I’m not really sure I have anything special to request.” I hoped he wouldn’t be too disappointed, but I had never really known much about flowers.
“You’re the lady of the house now. He remembers when he was a kid, and Mrs. Walker would ask for the most particular flowers. You could always request some petunias or maybe some lilies.” She went back to her stove and shut the oven off, then she went off to the private quarters where she spent her downtime during the day.
I waited until she was well out of earshot and muttered, “Lady of the house?”
“You are and not just any lady, but a special one.” His smile widened to meet his eyes. “I’d like you to start having more to do with the place, Lexa. I think it would be nice to share the place and you’ve been here almost a year and haven’t replaced anything or moved anything other than taking over that guest bedroom. It’s your home, so feel free to do with it what you like. I want you to feel at home.”
“You saw my apartment, Aiden. I never did anything special to the place. It was clean and tidy, and that’s how I liked it. I love the house the way it is.”
“Suit yourself.” He didn’t seem irritated, but I decided I’d try and have a little more say in things like gardening and my preferences of food, which Mattie had been trying to get out of me for months.
After lunch, I made a few requests with Pete and had him show me some options on my cell phone. I chose several flowers in mixed colors and hoped that Mrs. Walker would approve. I liked to honor her memory as often as I could because I knew she was still alive to Aiden when it came to Olde House.
I glanced down at the time and panicked as I realized I’d be in a mad rush to get ready for dinner with my parents. I was holding Aiden to the dessert he promised. When we got home, I wanted to be spread out like a feast for him to devour.
I ran upstairs and jumped in the shower wondering where he was, but knowing it didn’t take him half as long as it did me. I spent the rest of my hour alone getting dressed to impress, then Aiden came waltzing in and stood behind me in the mirror.
“I saw you with Pete. Did he get the flowers you wanted?”
“I had a little help choosing, but I’m certain they’ll be lovely.”
He undressed behind me and stepped into the shower. I watched his reflection, the perfect, thick cord of his muscular torso and his strong jawline, the one I loved to kiss and bite. And there were other things there I wanted to bite as well, and I heated up thinking about the pleasure he got from such teeth scraping actions.
We finished getting ready, and before long, we were in the car. He made small talk about my parents and how far along in their relationship we’d grown as he drove out toward the restaurant. The whole way there he went on and on about my parents, so much that I was sick of the both of them by the time we made it there.
“I think you’ll enjoy dinner very much.” He pulled into a parking spot and shut off the engine. We’d taken his sister’s mustang, and even though I loved the Shelby, his sister’s car was more comfortable.
“I hope so.” He came around to get me out of the car, and I took his hand when he opened the door taking a deep breath to try not to pout.
As we approached the restaurant, something felt a little off. It was the way he held my hand as if he wasn’t ever going to let it go.
We walked inside, and a small crowd of my friends and family all shouted surprise. I tried to grab hold of Aiden’s arm as I looked around and saw all the happy faces, including my parents and Bre, who’d dragged Daniel along. My smile was beaming, and I was so embarrassed, but then a hush fell over them, and I could see eyes fixed on the space behind me. I turned around to see Aiden with a tiny black box in hand.
I covered my cheeks and gasped as he dropped down to one knee. I reached for Bre’s hand as if doing so would keep me on my feet. She’d always been my support and my rock, and I knew with her there, I couldn’t fail.
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes a moment, but then he gazed up into my eyes with such sincerity that tears pooled in mine. “Alexandra Marie Patterson, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” The crowd hushed even more as I prepared myself to answer.
Our entire past year flashed before my eyes. The night we met, who had known when I cut his clothes off and scrubbed his wounds that he would be kneeling before me at that moment asking me to be his wife. It had been a hard road, one made rockier from my lie, but here he was, and he still wanted me. That was true love. Unconditional, forgiving everything else that had happened to make the journey seem like an impossible dream.
“Yes, of course, I will, yes.” There was a collective aww that lifted up in the room as he slid the ring on my finger. Like us, it was the perfect fit.
He rose up from his knee and scooped me up into his arms, and we spun so fast that our friends and family became a blur. Then he put me down on my feet and kissed me as everyone cheered.
Even though I was drunk with emotion, I felt safe and content knowing we were meant to be. And at that moment, I could feel Shawn’s eyes on us, as well as Ally’s and her parents. I knew that somewhere, somehow, they were looking down at us and giving us their blessing.
BILLIONAIRE’S CINDERELLA
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
Chapter One
Kiara
The lawns started getting larger before giving way to large tracts of land divided by impeccable hedges and wrought iron gates. My fingers tightened on the steering wheel as I took the turn towards my childhood home. My tiny attic apartment in Brooklyn seemed like a dream as I drove along the Long Island road. I fought the urge to swing the car into a tight U-turn.
It was easier to pretend in Brooklyn because no one was really looking. Here, everyone took one glance at me and realized I didn't belong. Poor Kiara Davies, the girl who wore her brother's hand-me-down jeans to school. The one whose fancy address was the joke of Long Island. Here, everyone knew the long, unkempt driveway led to nothing but a pine board cottage so old another cobweb could cause its collapse.
My phone rang. "Daniel? I'm so sorry. Did you get my message? I had to leave right away for Long Island."
"Yes, Kiara, I got your message at the last minute. And everything worked out with the reservation." Daniel's cultured voice had an edge.
I accelerated as I rushed to apologize again. "I'm so sorry I had to cancel. It was just such short notice and, ah, our handyman is out of town."
"Luckily, I'm taking the head of marketing out to dinner. Father thinks I'm finally showing some initiative." Daniel paused to let his quick thinking impress me. "Did you call a driver?"
I frowned over the rusted hood of my old pickup truck. "No. I decided to drive myself. It might be nothing."
"Well, your father was right. There was a big storm a few days ago. I hope the house is not too badly damaged."
I bit my lip to stop myself from saying I hoped the whole house had been blown into the Atlantic Ocean. Then, I had to slam on the brakes. The four-way stop by the gas station had come up quicker than I’d thought it would, and one tire squealed as I ground the old pickup to a stop.
"What was that?" Daniel asked, alarmed.
"It was-" I started to say “nothing,” but a car slammed into me from behind. The pickup truck careened sideways through the intersection and crunched into the base of the gas station sign.
The old-fashioned sign creaked as it swung above my head, and I held my breath. Knowing my luck, it would crash down at any second and smash the rest of the junked-out truck.
"Are you okay?" two voices asked at once.
I blinked and realized I had to answer the police officer at my window before I located my phone and answered an irritated Daniel.
The officer was young, his black hair shiny as he poked his head through the broken window to see if I was bleeding. I held up both arms and turned my head to prove I was uninjured, then I pushed the officer back and kicked open the door.
"Here's my insurance and the number for my lawyer. They can sort it all out." The other driver smoothed down his Polo shirt and barely glanced at the warped hood of his sports car. "If you don't mind, my friends there are going to give me a lift. We've got a party to get to."
The police officer scowled, but said nothing. He'd been coached to ignore the behavior of the neighbors unless they were blatantly breaking the law. All the complaints and lawyers were too big of a hassle for their small department, and he was constantly reminded his number-one job was to keep the peace. It might have bothered him that letting the rich kid walk away from the scene of an accident was considered “keeping the peace,” but he said nothing as the carload of party-goers sped away.
I turned to survey my pickup truck and blinked back hot, stinging tears. The back bumper was crumpled and hanging down to the asphalt. The bed of the truck was bowed, and the left wheel well was smashed in far enough that it pressed into the tire.
"Don't worry," the police officer said, "I'll call you a cab."
"No, no. It's fine," I said.
"I can't let you drive that vehicle, miss. I've got a cab driver that can be here in ten minutes."
I heard the familiar hum of another sports car flying towards the gas station intersection. "No, thanks."
How could I tell the police officer that one cab ride, even just a few miles down the road, would wipe out my entire bank account? That didn't fit the profile of the neighborhood. My only hope was to catch a ride with the next bunch of party-goers. I moved around the wreck of my pickup truck and ran my fingers through my long, loose hair.
I had a smile all ready, but when the electric-blue Tesla came into sight, my expression went blank.
Teddy Brickman leaned over a sequined-spangled supermodel and called out the window, "Everything all right here? Need a lift?"
"No. Thanks. He's calling me a cab." I struggled to talk around the lump in my throat.
His blue eyes were as bright as the blinding paint job on his car. "You sure?"
"Cab's already on its way." The young police officer came to stand next to me. The two men sized each other up, despite residing on entirely different planets.
"All right then. Nice to see you around again." Teddy hit the accelerator and tore through the intersection, leaving nothing behind but the wispy giggles of his supermodel companion.
"You know Mr. Brickman?" the police officer asked before he caught himself.
"Once upon a time," I muttered. I was too busy doing the calculations in my head to think about Teddy Brickman and his far-reaching reputation. What did it matter that I grew up side-by-side with one of the richest playboys on the Eastern Seaboard if I couldn't even tip a cab-driver without overdrawing my bank account?
"I'm sorry about your truck, miss."
"Kiara Davies," I said as I tried the math again.
"Did you want me to tow the truck any place special, Ms. Davies?" The young officer hovered nearby as I wrenched open the truck door and dug around for my purse and phone.
Daniel had hung up long ago, and I wondered if he would call back. All he really knew about me was my address. I was sure once Daniel Finley, Harvard grad and sole heir to his father's textiles empire, found out I was dirt poor, he wouldn't ever call again.
"She can leave the truck here." Two men from the gas station ambled over to access my truck.
I smiled and raced to give old Jim a hug. "I don't think it's worth saving this time."
"I'm not having your father come back from Afghanistan to find we scrapped his favorite truck." He nudged his son. "Stop staring."
Jim Jr. cleared his throat, but could not take his eyes off me. "Nice to see you again."
"You live around here?" The young officer jockeyed to get back in my sight lines. "I would give you a lift, but we're not allowed."
"I'm just here for the night," I said, hoping it would turn out to be true.
Then the cab pulled up, and my heart sank. After I paid for the cab ride, I would have to wait for my paycheck to clear before I could afford to get back to Brooklyn. How was I going to explain that to my bosses?
"I'll give you a ride," Jim Jr. said.
"No. You're already doing me a huge favor by taking this hunk of junk in. I'll be fine." I smiled at the men and slipped into the back of the cab.
"I could have helped," Jim Jr. muttered as the cab pulled away with me inside.
Old Jim laughed. "If she said she'll be fine, then she'll be fine. She's a Davies, son—probably the toughest one of the whole bunch."
I almost believed that until the cab-driver bumped along the overgrown driveway and finally caught sight of the homely, little cottage.
"This is it?" he asked. "Crazy. I mean, your neighbors have cars bigger than this place."
"Thanks." I got out of the cab and considered lowering the driver's tip.
"You could sell this place and make a fortune."
I sighed and gave the driver everything I had left. "My family doesn't take easy outs."
It was true. After my great-grandfather squandered the family fortune down to nothing but a plot of land on Long Island, the Davies had gone a different way. My grandfather built the cottage and then enlisted in the United States Marine Corps. He ensured future generations would have a respectable address and a name to be proud of.
I was certain my grandfather intended his offspring to use the opportunities he gave them, but they felt the need to follow in his footsteps. Both my father and brother were Marines. If my mother hadn't wrung a promise out of all of us before she succumbed to cancer, I would have enlisted, as well.
Instead, I was alone, facing the tiny scrap of a cottage by myself.
My phone rang. "Daniel?"
"What was all of that? Are you all right? I had to step away from the table to call you back. Did I tell you the head of marketing is here with me?"
"I'm sorry. It was just a fender-bender."
"Well, you should have said something." Daniel gave an exasperated sigh. "Did you at least make it home?"
I started towards the cottage. "Yes. I'm just going to assess the storm damage and head back as soon as… Oh, I should have known!"
"Kiara, for goodness sake, don't yell into the phone. I'm in the lobby of Raffey's. What are people going to think?"
"I'm sorry, Daniel. It's just there isn't any storm damage, at all." I strode around the outside of the cottage as the anger built up inside me. "It looks like my stepsisters were here and threw a huge party."
"Is that all?" Daniel sniffed. "How about you tell me all about it when you get back?"
"Sure. I mean, yes. Go back to your dinner. And, thanks for calling." I hung up the phone and kicked a red, plastic cup across the lawn.
Two beer kegs stood abandoned at the foot of the back porch steps. An avalanche of furniture spread out across the lawn down towards the ocean views. My step-sisters had hauled everything outside to make a dance floor in the tiny living room. Two dining room chairs held up a closet door that supported a wide array of liquors. I marched past the makeshift bar and peered inside a splattered window.
Someone had sprayed sticky champagne all over the windows and left the bottle balanced precariously on a bookshelf. More books had been hauled from the shelf and arranged on the scuffed dining room table to form some sort of drinking game. Spills, empty cups, and wadded-up balls of paper littered the whole room.
I turned and walked blindly away from the mess. My stepsisters, fueled by a very small trust fund their mother gave them, did nothing but leave messes for me to clean up. My father's second marriage had only lasted until his next tour, but it was long enough to leave us saddled with the wild twins. Their mother was away in Europe, charming men who lived in palaces. While that abandonment forged a kinship between us stepsisters, it wasn't enough to tame the younger girls.
Cursing my stepsisters without really being able to blame them, I bumped into the split-rail fence at the edge of the property. From there, the long, tangled grass gave way to the smooth, manicured lawns of the Brickman Estate. In a moment of weakness, I let my eyes travel up to the castle-like silhouette of my neighbor's palatial home.
"I should just ask Teddy for the money and get out of here," I muttered, but I was already shaking my head.
Far away across the sweeping lawns, a figure on the wide portico waved at me. I turned my back on him and sighed. There was only one thing I could do, and it wasn't beg charity from a obscenely rich neighbor.
Instead, I rolled up my sleeves and marched back to the cottage, picking up bits of the party-wreckage along the way.
My back was aching from hauling the furniture back inside, but everything was finally back in order. All the garbage was bagged up. The windows were scrubbed inside and out. The countertops were polished, and the kitchen was gleaming. I rubbed my neck, but surveyed the transformation with a small glow of pride.
It didn't matter that my errant step-sisters were refusing to answer my calls. The damage was repaired, and everything was back to normal.
Except my life.
I didn't even know where to start with cleaning up my life. My grand plan of law school and a respectable career kept getting sideswiped by the twins. My law internship was already in serious jeopardy because of all the days off I had been forced to take, and now this weekend was going to have to be extended.
My stomach clenched from the stress, but also let out of a growl of hunger. At least that was one thing I could fix. I headed down the back porch steps and into the garden.
When my mother was ill, I planted the garden all on my own. The doctors had recommended a fresh and healthy diet to help her fight the cancer, despite her lack of interest in food. Though I had only been ten years old, I had learned to cook well enough to entice her even on her worst days.
"Bet a little fresh salmon would go well with that salad," a creaky old voice called.
Donna Martin, the ancient head chef from the other neighboring estate, shuffled through the gate in the split-rail fence. The gate was always open, and I smiled as she handed me a basket full of choice fillets.
"I saw your lights on." She was retired now and living in a cozy suite of rooms in the wing of the house that overlooked our property.
"You called my father about the party," I said. My father had lied to me about the storm damage because our conversation had to be quick and to the point. We had lost the overseas connection too many times to have real talks.
"I should have just called the police," Donna said with a shake of her white, fluffy hair.
"What you should do is come in for dinner." I helped her up the porch steps and then pulled the older woman into a tight hug. "I'm glad to see you."
"Oh, Kiara. I'm glad you're home." Donna blinked back tears and bustled into the cottage's tight kitchen. “Tell me all about law school."
Her shrewd smile meant she wouldn't believe me, but I told her, anyway. "I love it. My internship is really interesting."
"Interesting? People say Boy Brickman's new car is interesting because he gets a new one every week," Donna told me as she heated olive oil in a pan.
I laughed. She always called Teddy “Boy” and would until he proved himself to be a man by Donna's high standards.
"Law school is a lot of memorizing and a lot of paperwork," I admitted.
"So when are you going to follow your real passion?" she asked as she showed me how to fry up the fresh sage along with the salmon.
"Follow my real passion? That sounds like something only the idle rich can do."
"They wouldn't know how. All that money just gets in the way." Donna left the pan to sizzle as she turned to me. "You're allowed to be happy, Kiara."
I stood up straighter. "I am happy. I'm studying for the bar. I have an affordable apartment in Brooklyn. And, I met a very nice young man. He's a Harvard grad."
Donna's eyes sharpened. "So are about half of them. Doesn't mean they're good enough for you."
I glanced out the window where Donna had nodded. The Brickman Estate was buzzing with sports cars, and every light in the forty-eight room mansion was blazing. The thumps and bass line of the loud party music drifted in and out of my cottage with the breeze.
I changed the subject back to food, and we spent our dinner ignoring the ever-increasing sounds of the party. Finally, Donna strained to her feet and shuffled down the back porch steps. Just as she reached the gate and gave me one final wave, my phone rang.
"Mr. Jason," I gasped. "Did you try to call me earlier? I'm so sorry. Are you still at the office? I finished my report on the Curtis deposition."
"No, Kiara. I thought it best to have this conversation after I'd left the office. I didn't want us to get interrupted."
I gripped the railing of the back porch. "Is everything all right?"
"Your work has been passable, Kiara, and we appreciate it. The real problem is, how should I say it? Your lack of passion for the law."
"Passion?" I asked with a hysterical edge to my voice. "I thought practicing law was more about professionalism than passion."
"True, yes. Your recent absences have created a less than professional reputation, but it is more your lack of passion that makes you the wrong fit for our firm." Mr. Jason's voice was steady.
"The wrong fit? Are you firing me?" I asked before the breath was squeezed out of my lungs by panic.
"We'll pay you through the end of the month to give you time to find a better fit. Good luck, Ms. Davies."
The phone line went dead. A wave of relief washed over me, but I quickly shook it off. Not only was I broke, but now I had no job. I couldn't even turn back to the cottage because the thought of disappointing…no one.
My eyes dried instantly, and I turned to face the empty cottage. I didn't even have anyone to disappoint. I was all alone.
The thought hung over me like a heavy cloud as I cleaned up the kitchen and did the calculations in my head. I would be stuck on Long Island for at least another 48 hours while my paycheck cleared. Then, I could afford a ride-share back to Brooklyn.
My chest squeezed again. My tiny apartment was affordable, but it was still at Brooklyn prices. If I didn't find another job right away, I would have to sublet the only place that felt like home.
"Where am I going to find a job?" I groaned over the sink.
The only other job I had ever had was in my college cafeteria. I wasn't qualified for anything else. Within two weeks, my whole life would unravel.
My only comfort was that the old Davies cottage was still standing. I looked around the tiny, two-bedroom shack and sighed. It was nice that no matter what happened, I would always have the cottage with its unkempt driveway, wide, wild gardens, and views of the Atlantic. Despite the tight dimensions, the cottage was cozy and comforting. It had kept me warm and safe on many lonely nights.
"Tanya? Sorry, the phone scared me," I said as I picked up my ringing phone.
"I just got to the library. You're coming to study tonight, right?" Tanya asked.
I pressed a shaking hand to my forehead. The music and laughter from the party seemed to be drifting closer, and I couldn't concentrate. "No. I'm sorry. I had to go home."
"Really?" Tanya asked, and I could hear her smile, "because it sounds an awful lot like you're at some party. Can I come?"
I laughed. "I wish. I'm out on Long Island at my father's place, and the neighbor is having another one of his wild soirees."
Tanya gasped. "Oh my God, that's right. Your neighbor out there is Teddy Brickman, right? You should go over there and have a little fun for both of us!"
"I don't feel like celebrating tonight," I said. "Tanya, actually, I've got to tell you something."
She sighed. "I heard about your internship. Does that mean you're not taking the bar?"
"I don't know what it means. Everything is all screwed up." I balled my hand into a fist and refused to let my voice tremble. "Remember that roommate of yours whose boyfriend was looking for an apartment? Think he'd be interested in my little Brooklyn attic?"
"No. No way. I'm not letting you give up your apartment." Tanya was firm. "So you got fired from your internship. Go over to your neighbor's party, cheer yourself up, then call and tell me all the details. We'll come up with a plan for you tomorrow."
I grinned. "Thanks, Tanya, but I think I'll skip the party and concentrate on a new plan."
She heaved a heavy sigh. "You know, it's all right to let go every once in a while."
"Says the girl that's at the library," I joked.
"That's exactly why you're supposed to go out and party for the both of us!"
"Sorry," I said. "I don't really move in the same circles as my neighbor, so I'm going to skip the party. But I will call you tomorrow."
I hung up the phone feeling marginally better. Maybe I wasn't as alone as I felt.
Then, I glanced out the window and saw a crowd weaving its way across the sweeping lawns to the clearing near the edge of my property. Flickering orange light reflected off silk sundresses and expensive jewelry as Teddy directed his friends to make the bonfire bigger.
"My father claims in his day they had bonfires so big the flames reached the top of the pine trees," I heard Teddy call out.
"The trees were shorter then," I muttered to myself as I slammed the kitchen window shut.
There wasn't going to be much of a chance for quiet contemplation or planning with the raucous crowd starting to dance around the growing bonfire.
The Brickman staff were hurrying across the lawns with folding tables and white linen tablecloths. Within minutes, there was a five-star buffet and a full bar set up. A sleek, brand-new pickup truck arrived with a sound system and large speakers.
Dishes rattled in the cupboards as the music started.
"Twenty acres of prime seashore property, plus forty-eight rooms, and he has to have his party right on my property line," I grumbled as I headed to my loft bedroom.
There was no doubt in my mind that Teddy was doing it on purpose, though I couldn’t spot him in the crowd outside.
Half my childhood had been spent watching him play with his newest and best toys within sight of my window. He didn't seem content with anything until he had made sure I noticed it, but tonight, I refused to give him a second glance.
Teddy Brickman might be a billionaire, but he hadn't earned a cent of it—and he had certainly never earned my respect. I swished my heavy curtains closed and curled up in bed, determined to ignore the party. Nothing could keep the heavy beats of the music out of my cottage, but it was the firelight that kept me awake. I watched it dance across the walls of the peaked loft ceiling and wondered what would happen if my entire life had just gone up in flames.
Would anyone care?
Sure, my father would call and check in, but I would still be all alone.
"A Davies never turns away from trouble," my father would tell me.
With his motto ringing in my ears, I threw back the covers and marched to my closet. The only thing suitable for confronting Teddy Brickman was an old, secondhand dress. I slipped the black cocktail dress on and viewed myself in the mirror. It wouldn’t fool any of his fashionable guests for long, but it would get me into the party. Just in case, I shoved my phone and thin wallet into an old clutch purse, then I squeezed my toes into a pair of high heels and headed to the mansion next door.