Her Secret: A Billionaire Romance Read online

  “So, John, I saw on Facebook that you bought that new boat that you talked about last time. Have you had much time to try it out?”

  John sat back in his chair, crossed his legs and put his hands behind his head. “I don’t get much time on the water. It’s business that keeps me busy. That’s my true love. I let my friends use it. And of course the old lady Am I right, right?!.”

  Who would want to be married to that douche, I thought to myself.

  Everyone in the group chuckled. “What about you Lance?” Asked someone else. “What have you been up to?”

  Lance was the best looking guy in the group, maybe about 6’1”, dark hair with blazing blue eyes that shone in stark contrast to his dark suit and tanned face. “Oh nothing too much,” he said, seemingly trying to divert attention from himself.

  The rest of the group seemed to wait on baited breath for him to elaborate. But he remained silent, content to sit, quietly, observing the rest of the group.

  “Well, you know Lance was never much of a talker,” said John. There was some laughter that followed what he said, even though it wasn’t funny.

  I tried to place these people, while at the same time maintaining my own composure and looking after the food. It seemed to me that John was well off, enjoying climbing the social ladder. They all had to have been around 33 years old. But Lance...he seemed to give off a different vibe. John seemed eager to boast about how well he was doing. But Lance seemed indifferent. And it made me curious...from the look of the group, they were all curious about him…

  “You getting tired of this?” asked Jen, breaking my reverie. “They should be done eating soon, and then we will get to mock them as they have their little self aggrandizement ceremony.”

  Jen almost always made me laugh. She and I saw the world the same way. “I’m already enjoying the people watching. Take that guy right over there.” I pointed to Lance surreptitiously. “He doesn’t seem to give a hoot about impressing anyone. But there is something about him that draws in the others.”

  “Don’t buy it,” said Jen. “I had a guy tell me once that the key to being impressive is to look like you don’t care about what others think about you. Because then everyone will assume you have something cool going on. It’s a psychological trick.”

  “What? You really think guys stoop that low to look cool?”

  “Are you kidding? They are no different than girls. Girls wear push up bras, cakes of makeup, hair extensions, you name it. Guys have their own methods of looking better than they are,” explained Jen. “I’m sure he is just another poser.”

  Great. Jen was probably right again. She usually was. For once I’d love to meet a genuine man who is confident in who he is, not trying to put on a front that he is some high status alpha male. I’m sick of that crap.

  “Can we get some punch?” Asked one of the men sitting in the group. He raised his glass expectantly.

  The punch had alcohol in it. Nobody was going to have a class reunion stone sober. I brought over a pitcher, and started pouring their glasses. But when I got to Lance, I started to feel something different, like there was a presence about him, something I’d never felt before…and it had a dizzying effect on me...

  “Hey,” he said. His eyes piercing through me.

  “What?” I felt like I was in a trance, and didn’t even dare to look him directly in the eyes.

  “You are stepping on my foot,” he said, politely enough, but with a certain degree of firmness.

  “Oh...I’m so sorry...here let me pour you some punch.” My hand was shaking as now the entire group of men was looking at me. At first I was nervous, but then began to feel frustrated, and even angry. “Okay, here’s your punch.”

  “Can you believe this broad, stepping on people’s feet,” said John. “Women these days, no respect.”

  “Excuse me,” I said, looking at him incredulously. “I am not your slave...not anyone’s slave.”

  “Hey we paid for the service, and we expect quality in return. It’s nothing personal.”

  Nothing personal, I muttered to myself as I walked to the bathroom, too embarrassed to be seen. I needed to take a break. Maybe, I’m not cut out for this world, I thought to myself. He was right, they paid for me to be there, and they just expected quality. And I couldn’t deliver it. I wanted to be a photographer, or an artist, something where I could express myself. The world of impersonal transactions was completely stifling to me. But I was stuck. “What is a girl to do,” I said out loud to whoever was in the stall next to me. I washed my hands and left, needing to be back at my station.

  “Hey, it’s you,” said Lance. He was walking to the men’s bathroom, adjacent to the women’s. “Sorry about what John said. I don’t really know him. He is an idiot.”

  “It’s fine,” I said, no longer interested in any man, even if he was gorgeous. “I need to get back to work.”

  “Can I ask you a question first,” he said, not forcefully, but in a way that I knew I couldn’t ignore.

  “Sure.”

  “Why do you work here?”

  “What kind of a question is that?”

  “Well...I mean I notice things about people. It’s not just a hobby, but it helps with my professional life. You are tall, blonde, in great shape. I would have imagined you would be working someplace else.”

  “What on earth is that supposed to mean?” Did he think I should be a stripper, or working as some kind of floozy somewhere? The nerve of this guy!

  Lance laughed to himself. “I don’t mean that at all. I just mean that you make me curious. I don’t know why it is. But I just am.”

  Should I admit that I was super curious about him as well? No way! “Well, thanks. I guess I’ve just been having a rough time of late, trying to figure out what to do with my life. I’m the type of person that wishes they were someplace else all the time. I listen to classical music, but then have to spend time catering. They don’t go together.” I didn’t know why I told him this random fact about myself. “What kind of music do you listen to?”

  “Same,” said Lance. “You seem like everyone else, trying to make it, trying to figure out who you are. But there is something about you that few have.” He looked around, not finishing his thought. “Listen, everyone here pretends like they have their act together. It’s a high school reunion, that’s what you do. But the truth is, most people are totally messed up. You aren’t special,” he teased, changing his tune.

  “I thought you said there was something about me?”

  Looking amused he replied, “There is something about everyone.” He laughed to himself. “What matters is finding someone else that is unique in the same way you are. Until then, you are just a strange person in a world of strange people. So yeah...nothing special about you.”

  “Never heard it put that way before.” In an odd way, what he said made perfect sense.

  “I never lie to people. Mainly I wanted to apologize for John. I’ll let you get back to work,” he said, then straightened his suit and entered the men’s restroom.

  If I thought Lance made me curious before, now I was really fascinated by him. There was something about him that brought to surface my desire to really connect with a man. As much as Steven had scarred me, made me want to swear off men forever, I knew I wanted a real connection. But that was the hardest thing to find. And who even knew what it looked like? If the romance movies are to be believed, you should look for the most annoying person who disagrees with everything you say, and then it will somehow lead to love. I’ve tried that. I couldn’t tell with Lance. He seemed just like his own category.

  CHAPTER 2

  Lance

  High school reunions are not my favorite thing in the world. I say that with the experience of only having been to besides this one - my 10 year reunion - but I’m pretty sure it is an unequivocal reality. They have a certain stench about them, an egoism that wafts through the air as social ranking is vied for. I s
hook my head, as I washed my hands, trying to clean myself of the odd feeling, composing myself to go back outside.

  Of course I had no reason to not like high school reunions. I should love everything about them, in fact. In high school I was a regular kid, not a loser, but definitely not one of the cool kids. But I was observant, learning how the world worked, how people behaved, and what to do about it. And that period of learning has paid handsome dividends, as I am now worth way more than I would admit to anyone.

  Walking out of the bathroom, I smiled and nodded to those around me, and acted the part. “So I hope you guys weren’t saying anything bad about me,” I said, when I reached the group I was with earlier, adjusting my suit.

  John smiled, he loved being the center of attention, and thought that his success in life validated his grating personality. “Nothing that we wouldn’t say to your face, Lance old pal.” he slapped me playfully on the back. I had to admit, I didn’t dislike these people. But it was just a bit superficial for my taste.

  I checked my phone. I had five texts from Prissy, my girlfriend.

  Prissy: How’s showing off?

  Prissy: Wish I could be there to show everyone how successful you are.

  Prissy: Too cool to text back?

  Prissy: Call me when you have a chance.

  Prissy: ?

  I laughed when I saw the last message. Just a single “?” like she was the most important person in the world and didn’t have to write a real message. And that’s how she saw herself; there was no question about it.

  “Your wife?”Asked John.

  “Oh...yeah...you know, gotta check in with the old lady…” I had gotten in a habit of lying about my life, downplaying my success to avoid the chaos that comes when people know you are a billionaire. I quickly imagined what it would be like:

  Lance, we knew you would be successful

  Great job, buddy, I always believed in you

  Lance, how about a picture together

  Lance, how about a group picture

  It would never end. I know because I’ve seen it many times before, and now do my best to try and blend in. It’s funny, but quite a good percentage of people like me do the same. Fame can be terrible.

  “So...Lance,” said John, wanting to continue the interrogation. “Tell me more about this wife of yours. We don’t know much about what’s going on in your world. Steve here is doing well as an engineer, Tom is a real estate novelist, but he hasn’t had time for a wife yet. What about you?”

  Everyone was looking at me. “Well, you know, I’m just living the American dream, working as a broker. I’m pursuing happiness and hope to have kids that can one day do the same.”

  John nodded, and then the rest of the group nodded as well, parroting his response. What the hell was a real estate novelist? Is that a joke? Isn’t that from a Billy Joel song? I smiled thinking about it.

  “Looks like you are doing great,” said John. “We all knew you would. You were a straight shooter back in high school. And now you are a regular guy, doing what you enjoy, just like the rest of us. Proud of you.”

  “Thanks, John,” I said, genuinely enough. Like I said, I didn’t dislike these people; just wish they would be more transparent. The chit chat continued, and I chimed in where appropriate, stealing a glance at that catering girl I talked to earlier. She was very pretty, and exactly my type (Prissy was the classic model look - but not my type). I figured I should try to talk to her more. Besides, I did want seconds.

  “So Catering girl. How is the night treating you?”

  She looked up at me, and smiled ever so slightly, trying not to look too happy to talk to me. “Well you know, not the best fit for me - this job I mean.”

  I laughed. “I didn’t mean it as an insult. I just meant that you are very pretty.” I piled my plate with more steak and rice. The beans weren’t really as good.

  “Well thank you. But is that appropriate? You are married. I would think your wife would be pretty upset to know you were talking to a caterer like that.” She had a look of vexation, but it only made her look cuter.

  “Well, there are things about me that you don’t know.” I looked around to see if I could disclose any information without others hearing. “I’m not really married,” I whispered.”

  She looked at me with incredulity. I wasn’t sure if it was because I lied or if she thought I was currently lying. A web of deception is definitely not the best way to start a new relationship.

  “So...I get it.” She folded her arms and shook her head at me. Tapping her foot like a mother angry at her child. “You said you were married so that the rest of your so called friends would think that you have a cool life. How original. I’m sure you are the first person at a high school reunion to do that!”

  I couldn’t help but smirk. Based on what I said, her conclusion made sense. “It’s not exactly like that...well...it is, but in a different way...it’s hard to explain.”

  “What?” She was no looking at me like I was stupid. “I bet you spent your entire last paycheck on that suit.”

  I had to admit, she was perceptive, though just as quick to judge. “Let me take you out to dinner, and maybe I can explain things a bit better.”

  “I don’t know. I am pretty busy with my job.”

  I was used to girls hopping over hurdles to try and date me. This was a bit of fun. “How about I spend my next paycheck on dinner?”

  “Oh my gosh...that is...you are crazy,” she couldn’t help but smile. Girls loved confidence, don’t ask me why.

  “You are right,” I said winking at her. It just popped into my head, but I had a plan for how I was going to see her again. “Maybe I will see you around.”

  “Okay,” she said. I knew she was attracted to me. But I had definitely ruined this interaction.

  As someone who had been a regular high school student from a middle class background, I felt like I had now seen it all. I’d seen women go out of their way to meet me - famous women in fact - when they know I am rich and famous. And yet I still have the scars of rejection from being a normal person, who just hoped to get a date to the prom. It gave me a unique perspective on life, I thought, and for the past few months I had been doing almost nothing but think about what I truly wanted, what I truly valued.

  I knew fame and riches didn’t lead to happiness. But what did? Maybe it had something to do with truly connecting with someone. There was something within me that desired it. And it was that part of me that I had starved. Until now.

  CHAPTER 3

  Katie

  “So that is Lance?” Asked Jen. “He is quite interesting, like you said. Why didn’t you accept his offer for a date?”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know, because I just felt like he was insulting me. He’s definitely attractive, and mysterious and all that. But I don’t like being insulted.”

  “Some men try to be playful, and it comes off that way,” explained Jen. “But I understand. You aren’t really looking to date anyone right now.”

  “Exactly,” I said, starting to put away some of the cutlery. Most everyone had eaten and had seconds by now. I continued to steal glances at Lance, and he at me. And there was no denying a certain kind of energy that emanated from him. But I can’t be with someone that doesn’t respect what I do. Or...maybe I can. I’m a caterer for crying out loud.

  As they finished eating, the old high school friends started giving each other speeches at the podium, talking of past glories, present victories, and future dreams. I thought it was fascinating how you can be separate from people for so long, but then as soon as you get back together, the feeling of solidarity returns. I stood in the back, hoping it would end soon - we were serving dessert after - so I could go home.

  “I bet you’ve been looking forward to this all night too,” said a man who suddenly appeared at my side. The now familiar feeling of energy reappeared, coursing through my body. It was Lance.

&nb
sp; “Of course. I said. I thought I rejected you earlier.”

  “You did, but that doesn’t mean we can’t just be friends. Like I told you, I’m observant, and I observe that we will have much to talk about.”

  Was it his suit that made my body feel the way it did? No. Other men wore suits. Maybe it was his perfect physique. Well...it didn’t hurt. “About what pray tell?”

  “I believe that you are the type of woman who tries to really see a person. Yes, you are beautiful, but beauty is common. You know that there must be more to a person. And so you seek to find it.”

  Maybe he was trying to break me out of my shell of cynicism concerning men. It wouldn’t be easy. “That is no doubt true. But I think that is common. Nobody wants just a pretty face. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Well I agree that I have a pretty face,” he said, jokingly.

  “Wow…”

  “Sorry, I couldn’t help it. But I do think that it is common to want more in a person. But it is a mysterious thing, undefinable. For we all exist because of so many generations before us who came together. And for what reason. Even they don’t know. It’s just some kind of force.”

  “Why are you telling me this right now?” I couldn’t place him. He seemed at one moment a powerful, great looking man in a suit, the next he would seem like a poser, trying to be cool, and now he was telling me about the odd and unexplainable reasons that people come together.

  “I tell you because I do not believe that God plays with dice nor believes in coincidence.”

  “Is that some kind of line?”

  “It’s been said before, but only because it’s true.”

  I looked up at him, wondering what kind of a man was behind those blue eyes. So far I had seen nothing but joking, some charm (or attempts at charm) and now his vague obfuscations about the world that were at least somewhat endearing. “So tell me about yourself, the true self. If you really want to get to know me, we are going to have to start there.”