Falling For My Enemy Page 12

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “Do you read it yourself?” I asked curiously. “Don’t you have an assistant or a lawyer to help you? Just saying,” were my rushed words. “There’s so much, and the print’s so small. How are you going to get through it?”

  One black eyebrow went up.

  “Good point, sweetheart. But trust me, I’ve learned the hard way,” he said, one big arm propped up against the back of the couch. “You know I started out as a guy with nothing. Literally nothing, selling knives from a suitcase door to door. Not exactly the most glamorous job.”

  I stopped while tidying, turning to look at him.

  “Like a traveling salesman?” I asked, eyes wide. Wow, the powerful Stone Evans had once peddled his wares like a gypsy?

  “Exactly like a traveling salesman,” the billionaire confirmed wryly. “Even worse because now traveling salesmen take flights to exotic locations, selling all sorts of fancy stuff. But back when I started, it wasn’t like that. I walked door to door, peddling my humble wares while singing a song.”

  I stared at him, hands still.

  “How did you get to where you are today?” was my whispered question, an expression of awe on my face. “Because you have so much now.”

  The billionaire smiled wryly.

  “The hard way,” he quipped. “I learned that you have to do everything yourself until you find good people. You have to take control of every little detail until you find folks you’d trust with your life. Thus, these papers,” he said, gesturing to the piles of stuff. “It’s an old habit because you’re right sweetheart. There are people to read these for me, and I shouldn’t be obsessing over every detail myself. But old habits die hard and sometimes, I still feel the need to look over everything myself to make sure it gets done right.”

  I nodded.

  “I wouldn’t know,” was my slow reply. “But I’ve heard that building a good team is the hardest part of running a business. Is that true? And maybe I could help in some small way?”

  The words died on my lips as my cheeks flushed again. Because what was I thinking? There was no way the billionaire was interested in my skills. I was a flight attendant. I didn’t even have a college degree. The people he was used to dealing with were probably PhDs who had years of experience, and who were erudite and knowledgeable. I was way out of my league. Oh god, what had possessed me? Why had those words come from my lips?

  But to my surprise, the billionaire didn’t dismiss my offer out of hand.

  “Thanks sweetheart,” he rumbled, eyes seizing mine. “You’re smart, honey, and I’ve noticed that. I’m sure I could use your skills somewhere in my business.”

  My mouth gaped open then.

  “Really?” came my shocked whisper. “I mean, not as a stewardess? As something else? Something white collar even?”

  After all, that’s my mom’s dream for me. Sandra wants me to ascend the socio-economic ladder, getting my college degree and maybe even landing a desk job someday. I’m from a long line of hard-working, salt of the earth people, and there’s nothing wrong with aspiring to a desk job. So the thought of having a shot at something different thrilled me to my soul.

  Evidently, Stone had already contemplated the possibility.

  “Yes, sweetheart,” he said seriously. “You’re organized, you’re efficient, and you’re good with numbers. There’s definitely a place at Gravity Holdings for someone like you.”

  I gasped. This man was really, truly amazing, and if I hadn’t tiptoed off the cliff before, then I plunged down now, my heart doing somersaults as elation filled my soul.

  “Yes Mr. Evans,” was my soft reply. “I’d be happy to work for you in any capacity. It’d be my honor.”

  Those blue eyes gleamed, about to say something naughty for sure, but we were interrupted by the ping of the elevator.

  “Ito Kana,” called a voice as the doors slid open. “Your Japanese food?”

  With that, the spell was broken. Shooting me another knowing smile, the billionaire got up, grabbing his wallet before striding towards the foyer.

  “Thanks,” came his words as he shut the front door. “Come on, honey, eat. I want to introduce you to a new cuisine, and this is going to be fun.”

  It really was enjoyable with the alpha as my guide. Because Stone looks out for me, he really does. He cares about me, showing me how to use chopsticks while stirring up a wasabi and soy sauce mix for the sushi.

  “Uck!” I shrieked, reaching for my water. “This stuff is spicy!”

  The dark man chuckled, popping a piece of squid into his mouth.

  “Warned you,” he tossed off. “The wasabi is made from the same stuff as horseradish, so it’s like fire if you’re not careful. Just use less next time,” he growled.

  I nodded while chugging my water, putting the glass down to wipe at my eyes.

  “That was more than horseradish,” was my gasping cry. “That was pure jalapeno.”

  The billionaire laughed then, biting into some shrimp.

  “No jalapeno, sweetheart, because they don’t use that in Japanese cuisine. But if you like jalapeno, we’ll try Mexican next. How about that, sweetheart? Not Tex-Mex, which is usually what people eat in the United States, but the real stuff. Authentic Mexican with Oaxaca cheese, none of that chimichanga bullshit you get from the Taco Bell here. You ready for that? You want to give it a go?”

  I blushed then, even as my mouth opened eagerly because this is what it’s like to be with Stone. The billionaire opened doors for me, introducing me to new vistas that were previously unimaginable. Anything was possible, from private air travel, to the most luxurious apartments, to a wardrobe of designer clothes, and now this. I was sampling different types of food from all over the world, and loved it.

  Happiness suffused me then. I adored this man, from his giving, generous nature, to his willingness to take me to new heights. With my heart in my eyes, I clasped his hands, dropping those blasted chopsticks in the process.

  “Yes Stone,” the words rang musically in the air between us. “Thank you, I’d like that.”

  Slowly, as if we were in a dream sequence, the billionaire leaned forwards, capturing my lips with his. A tingle ran through my soul, and my heart did flip flops all over again because with this man by my side, guiding me, opening doors, and showing me the way, anything was possible. I’d fallen head over heels with my employer … loving the alpha male with every fiber of my being.

  12

  Morgan

  Three months later …

  My hands danced over the remote, scrolling through hundreds of satellite channels. Ah ha, here it was. A Spanish-language telenovela, where the innocent maid falls in love with the big, bad CEO who happens to be her employer.

  Sound familiar? Maybe. But this is my life now, and I’m happy to report that just like Fran Drescher in The Nanny, me and my employer are an item now. Or at least I think we are. We must be, seeing that I don’t “serve” Stone anymore. We’re equals now, talking, laughing, and making love non-stop.

  Right now, I’m on the plane lounging around waiting for Stone to get back from his latest meeting. It’s a comfortable life, to say the least. I go where he goes, following him around the world to all sorts of exotic destinations. Maine? Check. Hawaii? Check. Alaska? Check check. In fact, we’ve been to Alaska twice now, hitting up Juno once and Anchorage the second time.

  As a result, I consider myself the billionaire’s girlfriend. We laugh, talk, and dine together, and he treats me like a significant other, always solicitous of my comfort and health. Not only that, but I now have the wardrobe of Cinderella, perfect for going out on the town or staying home, whichever suits our fancy.

  The only thing that niggles my mind is terminology. Stone has never referred to me formally as his woman, and there certainly aren’t any promises. He’s never used any words to formalize our relationship, but I put a lid on my worries because there’s emotion in the air. Whenever we’re in the same space, electricit
y surges, and there’s an invisible rope binding us together. Not only that, but I feel drawn to him, like a magnet pulled inevitably to its pole. He’s my man, and there are no two ways about it.

  Plus, the money is unbelievable. Stone pays me for my time, and every trip we take together is worth twenty thousand dollars. Can you believe it? That means that a flight to Alaska and back is the equivalent of forty thousand big ones, and after three months of doing this, I’m almost a millionaire. It’s crazy. Just earlier this year, I’d been wondering how I was going to survive. I’d been desperate to make a buck by any means necessary and now, my bank account is bulging.

  But it’s also the money that makes me stop short because what man pays his girlfriend a salary? Sure, women are dependent on men the world over for cash, but in my situation, it’s a little different. There are actual milestones marking my bonuses, with dollar signs attached to each leg. Is it normal to be so clear and specific? What is normal anyways? Do real husbands and wives do this, or do they share a bank account and call it even?

  Doubts whirled in my mind. As the child of a single mother, I don’t know how these things work, and frankly, there’s no one I can ask. But I put my fears to rest because it feels like a relationship for the most part. Stone and I love it up day and night, and we don’t talk about the transactional part of our relationship.

  As a result, I made myself swallow the doubts. On the one hand, I shouldn’t turn up my nose at so much money. The amount is unbelievable, and I’d be silly to feel anything but grateful. But on the other hand, I desperately want my relationship with Mr. Evans to be real, and the fact that I’m getting paid sends a shiver of unease down my spine. Should I offer to work for free? Should I refuse his cash? But I can’t do that either because my mom needs money for her medicine. So what do I do?

  Sighing, I turned away from the porthole. Who knew that having money meant complexities? I always thought once my hands were on the moolah, everything would be easy-peasy, and I could follow the Yellow Brick Road straight to the Emerald City. But instead, cash comes with problems of its own and right now, being paid as Mr. Evans’ girlfriend caused my stomach to churn.

  I flipped open my laptop screen, ready to unburden my soul.

  “Hey,” Evelyn chirped, cheery as always. But despite her happy tone, the girl’s voice was a little bit guarded. And were those circles beneath her eyes? My friend looked a little on the tired side, and her blonde hair was unusually limp.

  “Hey,” was my greeting. “How are you?”

  Evelyn flipped a handful of tresses over her shoulder.

  “Good, good. Where are you now?”

  I sat back, unfazed at the question. My friend knew of my life as a traveling girlfriend, and was probably a little jealous of the circumstances.

  “We’re in Boca Raton, Florida,” was my indulgent reply. “You know, the home of retirees.”

  “You’re not getting off the plane again?” she asked wryly. “Just chillin’ while Stone does his thing?”

  I nodded.

  “It’s just another meeting,” I yawned. “It’s not worth it to get off, and besides, what would I do in Boca? Everyone here has white hair and wrinkles, so I’d have no one to talk to.”

  Evelyn’s voice grew thoughtful.

  “True, true,” she replied. “Well, you have me to talk to! So when’s Stone going to be back?”

  I yawned again lazily.

  “I have no idea,” was my wheezy reply. “But soon, probably. Why?” was my curious question.

  Evelyn shrugged disarmingly.

  “No reason, really. Just wondering. Show me around the plane again!” she squealed. “You’re so lucky to fly private!”

  I leaned back, feeling boneless.

  “Evelyn, I’ve already showed you this place ten times over the last couple months. It’s still the same thing. The same white leather chairs, the same flat screen TV, all the good stuff.”

  But Evelyn shook her head.

  “Show me again!” she demanded insistently. “I’m so jealous! Nick doesn’t have a plane,” she lowered her voice conspiratorially. “He uses NetJets, you know that shared service where you have fractional ownership. But I figure if I show him your set-up, maybe he’ll want to buy one of his own.”

  I raised an eyebrow.

  “You know, I think these jets go for fifty million a pop,” was my slow reply. “They’re not cheap. Maybe your boyfriend wants to save money? Could that be the reason why he doesn’t want to buy one?” I hinted.

  But Evelyn pooh-poohed me.

  “Nick can afford it,” she said airily. “He doesn’t think it’s necessary but I know he can afford it. Especially if he sees you traveling around like this, he’ll want me to have the same thing. Keeping up with the Joneses, you know.”

  I made a wry face.

  “But Evelyn, it’s not good to keep up with the Joneses,” was my insistent reply. “The whole point of that saying is to stress how you shouldn’t want what your neighbors have.”

  The blonde sniffed again.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she sang. “It’s just an expression, nothing else. Now show me the plane again!” was her demand, even as her blue eyes peered behind my shoulder from the screen. “We left off in the bedroom last time. Can you show me that again?”

  I sighed. Why was Evelyn so demanding during our video chats? I swear, the girl had her own agenda, and these calls were getting to be a drag. After all, I’d dialed her to talk about my fears about Nick, ready to reveal my insecurities when it came to money and the imbalance in our relationship. But instead, here I was, giving her the umpteenth tour around the aircraft.

  “Okay,” came my sigh, standing and lifting the laptop. “Here goes.”

  With that, I strolled to the back of the space, opening the door to the bedroom. Sometimes it’s easier just to give in to my friend rather than putting up a fight. If I protested, it’d be twenty minutes of explaining myself, twenty minutes of her berating me, and twenty minutes of making up. That’d be an hour of wasted talk, when I could just give her the tour and be done with it.

  “Oooh cool!” Evelyn squealed from the screen. “Oh, what’s on the bedside table there?”

  I frowned. Why would it matter what was on my bedside table? There was an open can of coke, plus the book I was reading from last night.

  “Nothing, why?” I asked, swiveling the screen towards the nightstand. “What’s wrong?”

  “Not your bedside table,” Evelyn huffed, rolling her eyes. “What’s on the other nightstand?”

  I shot a glance towards Stone’s side of the bed. Nothing there, really. Just some papers, an electronic gadget of some sort, and … oh wait. There was some lube, the tube obviously half-used with a smear of gel on the clear glass tabletop. Embarrassed, I rushed over to clean things off.

  “Sorry,” I muttered. “You weren’t supposed to see that.” My hands fumbled, twisting the cap back on while hastily grabbing a Kleenex to wipe up the mess. “Just a little leftovers from last night.”

  But Evelyn wasn’t worried about that at all.

  “Oh that,” she sniffed crossly. “Don’t worry about some K-Y, that doesn’t faze me.”

  I pulled back. What in the world? What did Evelyn want to get a look at, if not the K-Y? Why was she so interested in my sex life anyways? Yes, we’ve always shared info about our personal lives, but I’d already been caught with the lube red-handed. So what was she trying to get at now? There was an unmistakable click-click-click as Evelyn took photos. I peered into the screen.

  “Evelyn, what are you doing?” I asked, perplexed. “Why are you taking pics of our messy bedroom? Seriously, don’t embarrass me and show these to your boyfriend.”

  “It’s nothing!” she exclaimed, eyes still fixed on something. “Don’t worry, I won’t,” the woman added. “It’s just something to have so that I can show the decorator when Nick finally gets a plane of his own.”

  I nodded. The cabin was done up with wood pan
eling and clever built-ins, but still, there was no need to take so many pictures.

  “Evelyn, what’s going on?” I asked firmly this time, swiveling the laptop around so that we were finally face to face once more. “Why are you taking so many pictures? I know you want your guy to buy an aircraft too, but this has got to be the tenth tour I’ve given of the plane. And what’s up with the endless photos?”

  “Oh, you know,” she said dismissively, waving a hand in the air. “It’s no big deal. You got lucky, and don’t you want to share some of that luck with me? Pretty please?”

  I sighed, my defenses already starting to crumble. Because again, it’s easier to give in to Evelyn, otherwise you’re fighting to swim upstream. But at that moment, Stone appeared in the doorway, his massive frame looming. Oops. I swiveled around, but not before he heard my buddy’s singsong voice.

  “Heeeey!” she greeted.

  “Bye Evelyn, I gotta go,” was my quick refrain before snapping the laptop screen shut. “Hey Mr. Evans,” was my purr. “I didn’t hear you board.”

  One black brow arched.

  “So it seems.”

  What was with the cool hello? Why was he in a bad mood? But I was dressed in a silky robe, with nothing but some skimpy lingerie underneath. Maybe an intimate session would be just the thing to lift his spirits. But as I swayed towards him, Mr. Evans’s expression remained unreadable.

  “Who was that you were chatting with?”

  I smiled.

  “Oh it’s just Evelyn. You know, my friend from Queens? I’m always chatting with her.”

  “So it seems,” the alpha said smoothly in response. “You talk with her often?”

  “Yes,” I nodded. “Pretty often. It’s either her or my mom.”

  But he remained unmoving, that big form silent by the door. Suddenly, a thought lanced across my mind.

  “I swear it was Evelyn,” my voice rushed. “I’m not cheating on you or anything. I don’t talk with other men. It’s my best friend from ages ago, you know, the one who’s really silly with the long blonde hair.”