Billionaire Decoded (5 page)

He stepped into the elevator that
would take him downstairs, surprised to find that once again his thoughts were
centered on Heather. There was such a difference between the two women. Then
again, he hadn't thought that Alyson could turn into such a bitch. Perhaps he
should distance himself from Heather, no matter how much she pulled at his
senses without even realizing how attracted, sexually and intellectually, he
was to her. The way she had laughed on occasion through their dinner had been
so appealing.

He realized then that he was used to
living in a world full of wheeling and dealing, scowling, furrowed eyebrows, mistrust,
and anxiety. For a man his age, he had way too much stress. A man with as much
money as he did should be living the good life without a worry in the world. So
why was he doing this? Why did he constantly find himself so embroiled in
issues, problems, complexities that churned his stomach acids to the point that
he was afraid he was getting an ulcer?

The elevator came to a gentle halt
and the doors swished open. He stepped out just as Alyson stepped through the
front doors of the building. Her eyes quickly scanned the foyer and latched
onto him. She was scowling, but there was nothing new about that.
God, has she forgotten how to smile? How to
be pleasant?
He thought back to the early months of their relationship and
realized, once again, that she had fooled him completely. She had showed him
her false persona, but the persona had cracked and eventually, the ugliness
inside had overcome even her exterior beauty and sexual appeal.

"Good evening, Heather,"
he said, pausing in front of her.

She lifted an eyebrow, gave him a
half smile, and then glanced around. "We're talking here?"

"Actually, I thought we could go
outside for a little walk."

"What's the matter, Brecken? Afraid
I’ll embarrass you?"

He nodded. “Frankly, since you asked,
you seem to have a difficult time holding onto your temper lately." He
glanced around, noticing several office workers were beginning to make their
way out of elevators toward the main doors. Two security guards sitting at a
desk with computer monitors in front of them were also nearby. In the far
corner, he noted that the small arrangement of a small sofa and two upholstered
chairs was empty. He gestured. "Do you want to sit down?"

She nodded and allowed him to lead
the way into the corner. Their footsteps echoed on the highly polished granite
floor. The glass doors that spanned the front of the office building let in the
glow of early evening traffic lights, headlights, and the windows from the office
building across the street. He took a seat on one side of the sofa, while she
took one of the upholstered chairs across from him.

"What is it?" he said as
soon as she had sat down. She looked gorgeous, as usual, and wore an off-white sheath
dress that accented her ample figure. For a moment, she sat silently staring at
him, and then, quite abruptly and to his surprise, she rose from her chair and
sat down beside him on the sofa.

She smiled, placing her finely
manicured hand on his thigh. "Can’t we put our differences behind us, Brecken?
You know we’re good together. Especially in bed."

He barely refrained from heaving a
heavy sigh. "I don't want to go through this again, Alyson," he said.
"You know as well as I do that it's over."

She leaned closer, placed her hands
on his shoulders and leaned in to kiss him. Six months ago, he would have been
welcomed her embrace, kissed the living daylights out of her and then some without
giving a thought to anyone who watched. Now, taken by surprise, he stiffened
and pulled away.

"Brecken-"

"Please don't," he said,
glancing at a couple of businessmen making their way past them and out of the
building. "I told you that it's-"

"It's that new bitch you hired,
isn’t it?"

He never ceased to be amazed at how
quickly her mood could change. Ten seconds ago, she was literally purring, and
now her eyes narrowed in anger. "Alyson, for God's sake, I only hired her the
other day!"

"You're fucking her, aren’t
you?" she demanded, her voice growing louder.

Brecken frowned, noticed the
surprised glance he received from a well-dressed, middle-aged woman walking
across the foyer from the elevator to the front door. "Alyson, knock it
off."

It was the wrong thing to say. She spoke
angrily, apparently unconcerned that anyone in the foyer, including the
security guards across from them, could hear every word.

"I'm going to win you back, Brecken,
no matter what. No one dumps me. And, I'll tell you something else…if you don't
come to your senses, I'm going to tell everyone what I know."

Brecken stared at her a moment and
then stood, casting yet another glance around. It was more than apparent to him
that office workers leaving the building and the security guards were
pretending not to hear her angry words, but it was impossible not to. She was
right about one thing. She knew a lot – too much. He shook his head.

"We're not going to have this
discussion here, Alyson," he said firmly. "It's neither the time nor
the place."

To his surprise, she stood, stepping
so close to him that he felt her breath on his face. Then, she placed her hand
on her abdomen. Gave him a smile. Leaned toward him. He thought she was going
to try and kiss him again, but she didn't. She whispered in his ear.

"I'm pregnant, Brecken."

With that, she turned from him and walked
toward the front doors, her heels clacking loudly on the granite floor. It was
obvious that he hadn't been the only one to hear her outburst, nor follow her
path out of the building. Nothing like this kind of a scene to get the rumor
mill going, which was the last thing Brecken either wanted or needed.

Her words sent a cold chill through
them. Was it possible? Could she be pregnant or was she, in typical Alyson
fashion, just trying to scare him and have something to hold over his head?
They had only been separated a couple of months, so it
was
possible she was telling the truth. The thought of Alyson being
a mother gave him the chills. He shuddered slightly as he made his way back to
the elevator, his mind spinning.

In a daze, trying to determine
whether she was being truthful or not, and horrified by the idea that it could
be true; he made his way back to his office. As the elevator doors opened and
he stepped out, he saw Heather slowly making her way to his office.

"Heather, are you looking for
me?" he asked. She turned around and eyed him for a moment, uncertainty
written all over her face. She seemed uncertain, which was a frame of mind he
currently understood. He was incredibly flustered.

"I…um… I just…"

"What is it?" he asked as
he ventured closer, trying to shove thoughts of Alyson from his mind. "I'm
just coming up to lock my office for the day. Is there something we need to
talk about?"

She paused, thought about that for a
moment, and then shook her head. She muttered something about a newspaper
article. He understood immediately. He had seen the article in the
Times
. "Don't believe everything
you read," he said, making his way to his office door. Without going
inside, he pulled a set of keys from his pocket and locked it. "Please,
come with me."

Without a word, Heather followed him
back down the hallway to the elevator. He gestured for her to enter first and
she did. They rode down to the lobby in silence. Without saying anything, he
took her across the street to the diner-style restaurant in the lobby of the
office building that housed a number of accountants, lawyers, and investment
consultants.

"Have a cup of coffee with
me?"

Though she seemed surprised by the
invitation, she nodded. "I… I just wasn't sure what to think about the
article. It made some pretty startling accusations-"

He guided her to a booth in the
corner of the restaurant. As she slid into one seat, he took the bench opposite
her. "Like I said, Heather, don't believe everything you read. In this
business, you make waves, and I've apparently attracted the attention of a
journalist trying to make a name for himself and not in a good way."

She glanced around the restaurant,
taking in the core. The table in front of them had coffee cups turned upside
down on their saucers, napkin holders, salt and pepper, the usual condiments,
as well as several heart decorations on the wall beside them. He noticed it for
the first time, as well. Valentine’s decorations. Shit. No wonder Alyson was
acting this way. He had suggested they set their wedding date on Valentine's
Day.
So much for ever enjoying this
holiday again
, he thought.

A waitress came by their table and
asked if she could get them a menu. Brecken shook his head regarding the menus and
requested a couple of cups of coffee. The waitress stepped away. He said nothing
more as she returned, carrying a coffee pot. She poured them each a cup,
glanced at him once more, and then shrugged and walked away.

He watched as Heather reached for
the sugar container that held a variety of real sugars and substitute sugars.
She took the real sugar. He smiled. "Why aren’t you crazy?"

She glanced up at him in surprise;
her hands frozen, only halfway done ripping open the package of sugar. "Excuse
me?" she laughed.

"Everyone else is, why not
you?"

He knew he had taken her off guard,
but she shrugged and laughed again, then gestured around her. "There are
all sorts of crazy. Just look around. How else do you explain all the
Valentine's Day decorations? If there’s one holiday that seems crazy, it's
Valentine's Day."

He nodded and watched as she slowly
sipped her coffee.

"So, the article…"

He waved off her question.
"When you're rich and powerful, everyone wants to take you down. I found
that journalists, or so-called journalists rather, will say anything and do
anything just to make you look bad. Everyone wants a piece of you."

Except Heather. Apparently, she just
wanted to do her job. Not only was she gorgeous, but she didn't seem to be at
all impressed with his status. He rather liked it. He was so tired of people
acting funny around him, trying to impress him, get in good with him, patting
him on the back, and acting like he was their best friend when he didn't even
know them. Everyone wanted to be his friend, but they had ulterior motives.
They all did. Even Alyson had.

"Look, Heather, there's no
corruption in my company…never has been and never will be." He laughed.
"As a matter of fact, I think it's all rather amusing. Ever since the WikiLeaks
mess, everyone's so quick to point a finger, to accuse everybody, or at least
me, of being engaged in questionable activities. Why? I have no idea." He
actually felt a little guilty lying to her. He did have an idea why people, or
at least the media and some government officials, got the impression that he
was operating outside of the law. Still, they had never found any evidence, nor
pressed charges, so as far as he was concerned, he was okay.

"I guess that makes
sense," she said, taking another sip of coffee.

He gazed at her as a sudden idea hit
him. "Heather, would you like to do something spontaneous, something fun?
Something fast?" She stared at him, obviously taken aback. "No
pressure, this isn’t an official date or anything, but to tell you the truth,
I've been under a lot of pressure lately. It's nice to just… to just be with
someone with whom I feel comfortable." He smiled. "You have that
effect on people, you know."

She smiled politely. "What
effect?"

He shook his head, not quite sure
how to reply. "I don't know how to explain it. You just have a calming
effect on me. It's like when I'm around you, I feel this sense of… I don't
know, of Zen!” He laughed.

She shrugged. "Why not?"

*

Less than an hour later, Brecken
strapped Heather into the Formula One racing car passenger seat and gave her a
reassuring smile as he got behind the wheel and strapped himself in.
"Don't worry, Heather, I do this all the time." He had booked some
time on a private drag strip a couple of days ago, something that he did at
least once a week. "It helps me unwind and relax."

Her reply was cut off as he floored
it. In a matter of seconds, the car sped around the track at over one hundred
miles an hour. He didn't look at her, focusing instead on the track in front of
him, his hands firmly on the wheel. The loud engine prevented any conversation,
anyway, but conversation wasn't what he was looking for when he came here.

Maybe she was getting the same
thrill out of the speed as he did. Then again, maybe she was terrified. He
would find out soon enough. He loved coming here. The adrenaline of pushing a
car to its limits, navigating the curves, and accelerating down the
straightaways helped him get rid of the tension than accumulated on a daily
basis. If he didn't have something like this, he would probably explode. He
wasn't into skydiving or reckless thrill-seeking endeavors, although some could
say that taking a car through its paces around a drag strip was a thrill-seeking
endeavor. He disagreed. He wasn't reckless. He was fully aware of the need for
focus and skill.