The Damaged Billionaire, page 18
Now, after thinking about it for the past hour in the quiet of my home, I knew there were signs. Katerina at the business dinner a few weeks ago should have been my first signal, given that Harrison has since told me she wasn’t even invited. Something I probably should have investigated at the time. The constant social media harassment from her. I should have picked that up straightaway. A familiar name, an ongoing daily barrage of messages. Sure, it could have been nothing, but it warrants some digging. And I didn’t do that either.
I slump on the sofa and cuddle the cushion. I smell him, his scent mixed with whiskey. No wonder he had a drinking session with his brothers. Finding out that you are going to have a child is a big deal. Harrison explained it all to me on the phone while Tennyson was passed out on my sofa. I sat in the armchair and looked at him for half the night, disappointed I let him down, disappointed that he could be a father of a child he didn’t plan to have. The deep pain in my gut at the last thought sears me the worst.
“I came home as soon as I heard!” Saide says as she pushes through the front door and eyes the mess in the kitchen. She was out all night and no doubt had a similar fate to that of Tennyson and probably slept on her friend’s sofa. But she looks refreshed.
“You didn’t have to,” I say, pushing my shoulders back, determined to make this right. Professionally, at least. Personally, I have no idea where I stand with Tennyson or what to do. All I know is that I can’t focus on that until this mess is sorted.
“I saw the news on social media this morning. Are you okay?” she asks softly, coming to sit next to me. We have always been close, but it is usually me who does the mothering. This side of Saide is completely new. But I need it.
“I will get it sorted. I am sure I can get this to blow over in a couple of days, a week tops, and then have him back to being a poster child in no time,” I say, not looking at her, but nodding, reinforcing it all to myself. I can do it; I know I can.
“Willow…” Saide says, and I can’t look at her, so I remain quiet, staring straight ahead.
“Willow, look at me.” My eyes immediately find hers at the gentle tone of her voice.
“It’s okay to be upset.”
“I’m fine. Stupid, but fine,” I mutter.
“You are not stupid,” Saide says, flabbergasted.
“I let my guard down. I could have stopped this. There were signs that this woman was up to something, and I missed all of them!” I say, exasperated with myself.
“Willow, are you even listening to yourself? Maybe you could have, maybe not. But I am not talking about work now, Willow. How are you and Tennyson?”
“He is having a baby with another woman. How do you think we are?” I say with a bite, not meaning the venom. Her lips purse a little, and I feel bad for a moment.
“I understand your pain, but it was before you two even got together, wasn’t it?” She makes a good point, and that is what I can’t reconcile. It makes sense that, yes, it all happened before I met Tennyson, but it doesn’t make the pain in my chest ache any less. The sane part of my brain knows that these things happen, and he probably needs me now more than ever. But the hormonal part of me wants to slap him, eat a tub of ice cream, and drown in my tears.
“You know I can’t give him that,” I mutter to Saide and see pity in her eyes.
“Maybe he doesn’t even want kids. Maybe he is not father material?” Saide offers.
“But if he does, I can’t give him that. I will never be able to give him that.” Pain intensifies in my chest as the reality sets in.
“You don’t know that for sure,” Saide says angrily.
“I know I may be young on the outside, but my insides are so traumatized that nothing can survive in there. The doctor said it was a one in a million chance,” I reiterate what she and I already know. There is no way in hell I can have a baby, or even if I am lucky enough to conceive, chances are I can’t carry to full term. PCOS is debilitating, at least it was for me, and although I feel more settled now, on good medication, and have a healthy lifestyle, the dark cloud always hangs over my head.
“But there is still a chance,” Saide says, her eyes glassy. We have talked about this many times before. She knows how badly I want kids. Ever since I was one myself, we always played moms and dads at home. I was always looking after everyone. I have always been maternal.
“You live in fantasyland, Saide. No one is that lucky. Now at least Tennyson has that chance to have a family with someone. I mean, this pain was coming for me eventually.”
“That’s why you don’t date, isn’t it?” Saide says, like she is coming to a known conclusion.
“Don’t be silly. I date,” I say, scoffing off her accusation.
“Oh my God, I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. You don’t date. You are a workaholic. You bury yourself in making other people happy and successful because you don’t want to meet the man of your dreams and—” I cut her off.
“Disappoint him? Tell him I am barren and can’t give him the very thing that, deep down, we as humans are put on this earth to do?” I finish for her, and her lips thin.
“Surely, a man who gives you nine orgasms in as many hours can put a baby in you,” she quips, and I huff out a laugh.
“Somehow, I don’t think that is enough, Saide. If this baby is Tennyson’s, then it is his chance to have a family. I don’t want to stop him from achieving that. This woman was a one-night stand, but so were we, and we nearly made it work. Maybe he can make it work with her,” I offer, coming to the conclusion that whatever Tennyson and I had needed to stop eventually.
“I can’t believe you. It is clear as day that you have strong feelings for him. I am reasonably confident that he feels the same. What if he doesn’t even want children? Have you thought of that? Because he is just as big of a workaholic as you, it appears, and given how much sex you two have, I don’t think either of you would have time for kids anyway!” Saide protests, and I roll my eyes.
“Want some ice cream?” This conversation is going nowhere and we are both exhausted. I know she is still hurting over the pain of her own relationship failure, even if he was married and she should have known better.
“I can’t believe we were both with men who are now having babies with other women…” Saide remarks, and I sigh.
“I will get two tubs.” I walk to the kitchen, grab two tubs of ice cream, spoons, and a blanket from the cupboard on my way past.
“Titanic? Leo never lets us down,” Saide asks, flicking through the movie choices.
“Sounds perfect,” I say, slumping next to her, and we both get comfortable. Under the blanket, with our ice cream, we get lost in Rose and Jack and their true love story that was never meant to be.
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE - TENNYSON
I have been working for twelve hours straight. My eyes blur, they’re so dry. I haven’t slept in days, I’ve lost my appetite, and my body burns for Willow. It has been a week since the bomb exploded in my life. Ben and his legal team are dealing with Katerina, and I haven’t spoken to her again. Everything goes through Ben and the firm. We have hired independent doctors, me wanting to get this paternity issue sorted ASAP and Katerina being hesitant to allow anyone to conduct tests. She is saying it is too early and might harm the baby. I am calling bullshit.
As I send off another email to Singapore, firming up our expansion plans, I look around Ben’s library, which I have now overtaken as my office. I spot a tub of books and toys in the corner. A pink box overflowing with Rosie’s things that she loves to play with. All high sensory toys, noise makers, and tactile toys she can feel and touch and immerse herself with. I sigh and lean back, staring at the box. I still can’t believe I could be having a kid. A child of my own. I scrunch my face and rub my eyes. It is the last thing I want. I just want Willow.
I hear footsteps and look up, spotting Harrison as he struts into the room, looking like the leader of the free world that he is meant to be. I haven't seen him for a few days, as his work has only gotten busier. It has been Ben who has been managing me and Eddie who has been keeping me sane. But Harrison calls me every day.
“I’m surprised to see you,” I say, my eyebrows rising as I lean back, watching him. It is just dusk outside, and the two of us should be somewhere either having dinner or with our women, but here we are. Locked inside because that is what my sexy reputation manager is telling me to do.
“Willow told me we need to have at least one of us boys near you at all times. Help keep you sane while you are locked up in here,” he says, taking a seat and looking at me. “She is a drill sergeant. She is so good at her job. I knew she was, of course, but seeing it in action, I am astounded. She not only gets everything handled, dots every ‘i’ and crosses every ‘t’, but she does it three times just to ensure it is right.” He gushes the words so fast they tumble out of his mouth.
My teeth grind as I listen to Harrison tell me exactly how wonderful my woman is. I have called her. Multiple times per day just to hear her voice. She always answers, tells me updates, gives me direction, but it is all professional. The few times I have broached the subject of us, she stops me. She needs to focus. I get that. But I need her.
“If I run for president, I will need her working on my campaign,” Harrison adds, and my chest warms with pride for her. Willow would be excellent on his team. He would win, for sure.
“I didn’t hamper your opportunity then?” I ask him, because that was a major concern of mine too. I didn’t want my fuckups to impact his opportunities.
“No. Willow says this news is contained to Baltimore at the moment. Depending on the paternity of the child, that will determine if it reaches further afield. My run for president is still a few years away, so we should be okay. Are you sure you used a condom?” he asks me, hope in his question. He has asked me this almost every day, and my answer remains the same.
“One hundred percent certain. The only issue is if it broke and I didn’t know.” I have thought about this. I have thought over and over about that night, trying to remember it. But I can’t. All I can think of is Willow.
“Good. Willow has it handled. Beth said she was good, but I didn’t know how good until I worked with her this week,” he says, still admiring my woman.
“You've seen her?” I sit forward, eager for any information he can give me.
He looks at me and nods. “Every day.” It is now my turn to be surprised.
“Every day? What do you mean every day?” I push. Why can my brother see her, and I can’t?
“We are having a touch-base meeting every day, trying to not only get a handle on this situation, but also get in front of it. It isn’t easy out there. Willow is getting phone calls and messages; your social media is running rampant. It feels like Dad all over again.” The air in my lungs leaves me. When Dad died, the amount of work us boys had to put in to stop the media, their stories, their lies, was astounding.
“Shit. I didn’t know…” I murmur, as the familiar feeling of failure wraps around my throat again.
“It’s fine. Willow is containing it. I wish we had her for all Dad’s affairs. It would have been much easier.” Harrison sits back and looks at me.
“How is she?” I’m almost scared to know. Hoping she isn’t baking every day and is taking care of herself.
“She looks about as shitty as you, if that's what you want to know. The fact that the public isn’t aware of your relationship is a blessing, really; otherwise, she would be struggling, I think. But she remains laser focused. She said she has only failed one client in the past and has no desire to make it two. Her commitment to you is unwavering.” Harrison's voice is full of confidence, any hesitation he had about Willow before now gone. She has yet another Rothschild who wants her in his life, albeit professionally. Thank God Harrison is already taken.
“She hasn’t failed,” I murmur, my brow furrowing, not liking her thinking that way.
“She thinks she has.”
“Bullshit. She is amazing. I am the one who fucked up, not her.” I may have made a huge mistake, but I own it. I’m not perfect, nor have I ever claimed to be.
“She is taking it personally.” Harrison watches me like a hawk.
“I knew that she would, married to the job and all that.”
“What if it is yours?” Harrison asks the question everyone seems to dodge.
“What do you mean?”
“What if the baby is yours, Tennyson?” he reiterates firmly.
“I don’t want to think about it.” I dismiss him, really hoping it isn’t.
“But you need to.”
“I don’t even want kids. Don't get me wrong, I hold the trophy for best uncle to Rosie, a title I plan to carry over onto your kids whenever you and Beth get there. But I am not father material. I wasn’t wired that way. I am happy to look after them, feed them sugar, and hand them back, and that is the extent of my desire,” I say with complete honesty. Having kids was never my mission. If it happened, I would deal with it, but it was never something I wanted. I am happy without that level of responsibility. If nothing else, having Bob to look after these past few weeks has taught me that. I quickly look out the window and spot him digging up the new posies in the garden. Emily won’t be happy, but at least Rosie will get a laugh. She loves that dog already.
“Maybe you will feel differently once you see a baby and it is yours,” he offers with a shrug.
“If this is my baby, I will do the right thing. I will pay all expenses. I will spend time with it. I will do everything I can and be the best father I am capable of being. But I am not marrying Katerina. This will never be a perfect family situation. I will never go against any of her parenting wishes. She can raise this baby as her own. I will love it, of course I will, but there is no happy family here.”
“Why are you so against having kids?” His brow crumples at me, trying to figure me out.
“Mom and Dad were not the best example,” I mumble, pretty sure I don’t need to explain that one.
“But you see Ben and how happy he is now?”
“Yeah, but you also feel the pain when your parent dies,” I snip. Harrison’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline.
“I think of Dad often too.” He nods, watching me carefully.
“Not just Dad, but Nanny Helen,” I admit.
“Helen?” The look on his face is one of bewilderment.
“Yeah, I have been thinking of her a lot lately.”
“I am surprised you even remember her.”
“She was more of a mother to me than Mom was.” Our mom was no mother. Just a woman who was around the house growing up.
“Yeah, but she died so long ago.” All us boys had nannies, and I am sure that both Harrison and Ben both still visit theirs, funding their retirement completely. Something I didn’t get the opportunity to do.
“You know, I feel like there is something weird about it all,” I say to him, finally voicing the things I have been thinking about.
“What do you mean?”
“The night she died.”
“You always said you couldn’t remember,” he says curiously, now sitting forward on his seat.
“I never could, until Willow got my heart beating again after years of ignoring the world and my feelings. She had me assessing everything about my life from the first moment we met in New York, and I haven’t stopped since. I have this one memory of Helen that I can’t see properly, but I think…” I tell him, my brain scrambling to pull it all together.
“What?”
“I just think she didn’t die of heart failure.” I sigh. “It is all I have. A feeling. I wish I could grasp it, but I can’t.”
“Maybe look into that day. Talk to her family. Maybe that will help you get through the mental block. Seems like it weighs you down and you have enough going on right now. It could be good to clear the old clutter completely,” Harrison offers, and he is right.
“I think I might need to go to Singapore for this deal,” I put it out there, then look at Harrison, seeing when the penny drops.
“Maybe you should. Take Eddie with you and stop over in Indonesia on the way? It may help you to see her family in person.” I nod. My Singapore deal is going through rapidly. Things moved quickly once I had a clear vision, the right contacts, and no competitor standing in my way. Even though the media locally is having a fucking field day about my sperm count, it doesn’t even make the news in Asia. So it is full steam ahead on that project.
“Willow said the Business News interview will go out in a week or so after the media storm blows over. This deal in Singapore is happening regardless of your sex life antics, so maybe you should fly out tomorrow?” Harrison says, and I take a breath.
“Maybe I should fly out tonight.” I look at him for confirmation that I am making the right decision, and he nods. So, I make the calls to Eddie and Melody and pack a bag.
It’s time to do the right thing.
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO - WILLOW
I sit on the sofa and take a deep breath. It has fast become my new resting place. I have been working ridiculous hours for the last week, and the only chance I get to stop has been when I have taken five minutes just to sit, right here on this sofa.
Things are calming down. But I am still on edge. It is not totally out of character for me. When any of my clients has a hiccup such as this, I work all day and all night to mitigate it. And now I see the dust settling. Even though there is still an interest and an air of intrigue, the local media have spun this story to death already, and with no updates or additional information, they have started to move on to other topics.
