Fascination: (Billionaire Venture Capitalist #9): A Friends to Lovers Romance Page 6

  “That’s too bad. I certainly would love for you to join me. You would know many of the people there.”

  We make simple conversation after that, talking about different people we know in common and what’s going on. I’m careful what I say to Walker. I can’t help but like him despite his being a third-generation politician and willing to use anything he can to his advantage.

  After our lunch of lobster bisque, a salad for me, and some kind of fish sandwich for him, we part our separate ways. I give him a tight hug. “Thank you in advance for all your help with our issue. And , have fun with Dara. She’s a sweet girl, and I have a feeling she may have more feelings for you than she lets on.”

  “You’ve broken my heart again, but I’m happy to help you. Maybe one day you’ll agree to date me.”

  I walk out to my waiting car and think about what he said. He’s a good-looking guy. Dara isn’t right for him, but I may know someone who is. Walker’s more interested in following in his father’s footsteps to the Governor’s office and then a bid for President. He needs a strong woman behind him, and I have an idea of who might be a good match for him.

  I think about his comments regarding how alarming it is that we’re a San Francisco business that employs a lot of people. The loss of the income generated by shutting down my company could really affect the San Francisco economy. When I think about what the espionage does to SHN’s clients, it has a different impact. The companies are smaller, so the impact is less noticed, but it is much more personal there, not only because they’ve said they’re going after SHN’s founders specifically, but also it affects them personally. Trade secret theft is a bigger deal than I ever gave it credit for.

  I need a drink. It’s still early, but I send out an SOS over text to my friends.

  Me: I really need drinks tonight. I’ll probably go early if anyone cares to join me.

  It’s very relaxing to know I have a great group of friends. I feel really lucky. I know I could call any of these women at any time and they’d pay to bail me out of jail. Of course, we’re not actually that rowdy, but I can be myself with them. I don’t have to put on any pretenses. I talk to Emerson almost every day, and I talk with the rest of the girls all the time.

  I don’t want to go back to the office for two hours of everyone needing me. I want to do something just for me. I could call up a rideshare, but it’s only a few blocks, and I want to enjoy the sunshine. I call Christy and let her know my plan in case anyone is looking for me, then start walking.

  Market Street is always hustling and bustling. On this end of town, the financial district begins on the north side of the street, the tech industry on the south side. It makes for an eclectic group of people. I love this city. It may drizzle most of the winter and sit under a dense cloud of fog in the summer, but the people here are vibrant and….

  If I lose Metro Composition, I don’t know what I’m going to do. It will be devastating.

  I wander through the cosmetics section when I arrive at Nordstrom. I see the Metro Composition display and two of our employees both doing makeovers. We pay good money to be so visible here, but it’s worth it. I love our cosmetics. Each season we launch a new palette of colors, and I like them better than the last. I watch them work, and eventually one of the women getting a makeover recognizes me.

  “Oh. My. Gawd! You’re Caroline Arnault!”

  My makeup artists are always uncomfortable with me here. I hate to put them on the spot. “Hello. I’m here to just escape.” I check the name tag of her artist out of the corner of my eye. “I see Alana is taking great care of you.”

  “Oh, I love your makeup. My friends back in Scottsdale are not going to believe I met you while getting a makeover.”

  “Well, we are glad you love the colors. You look fantastic.”

  “Can I have your autograph?” she begs.

  “Me, too,” the other woman says. This happens. I’m only famous because when my brother, Trey, and I were five, my grandfather passed away and gave us our father’s share of his estate since they were estranged. We were the youngest billionaires on the Forbes list, and since then, people have been fascinated with our lives.

  “I’d be happy to. Are you considering buying this powder?”

  She nods vigorously.

  “I can sign the lid.”

  Her eyes bulge, and she can hardly contain her excitement. “That would be incredible.”

  I scribble my name across the lid, then look at her friend. “You have the same powder. Would that work for you, too?”

  “Absolutely.”

  I sign hers as well, and all of a sudden there is a large group of women crowding me for autographs. I feel someone come up and lightly take my arm. “Ladies, I’m sorry. I have an appointment with Ms. Arnault. Do you mind if I steal her away?”

  There is a collective “Aw,” but I’m relieved as we get away from the crowd.

  “Jennifer, you didn’t have to do that,” I tell my personal shopper.

  She laughs. “Whenever you walk into the store, security alerts me because they know you’ll be bombarded at the Metro Composition counter.”

  “I don’t mind, but I don’t want to distract them from buying. My publicist in New York suggested that I start signing our makeup products. That way they’ll buy them.”

  “You have a wise publicist.” We take the escalator up to the eighth floor. “You’re free to wander. If you want any help, I’ll be right over there.”

  “I’m taking a me-afternoon. If you have anything you think I should try on, let’s set up a room.”

  “I don’t want to pressure you.”

  “Nonsense. Part of my me-afternoon is shopping.” I don’t know what it is about the racks and racks of beautiful clothes, but they always make me feel better.

  She sets me up in her private rooms and brings in dozens of clothes. She knows my style incredibly well—conservative with flair. I always like almost everything she brings. She also brings me pretty and sexy lingerie. “Who cares about the prince anyway?”

  I walk out of Nordstrom a couple hours later, several thousand dollars poorer. The clothes will be delivered to the house, and I have just enough time to catch a rideshare to the bar.

  I walk into the large main bar complete with a long wood counter where various wise-cracking regulars banter with the bar staff. I see Emerson standing at the bar, preparing to order.

  “What looks good today?” I ask her.

  “I’m thinking a blueberry martini. It’s fruit, right?”

  I giggle. “Whatever your heart desires. I just want to head back to the piano bar, relax, and hope I can do today over.”

  “I do miss work sometimes. It really is easier than staying home with Liam all day. I love that boy, but he’s not even mobile yet and he challenges me. I plan on having a drink or two tonight. I’ll express my milk tonight and possibly tomorrow morning. Mama needs this.”

  I giggle. “How is my godson?”

  “I can already tell he’s going to be just like his father—stubborn and cute as can be.”

  “Getting the ladies to do his bidding at nine weeks?”

  “Exactly!”

  Talented local artists are tinkling Broadway tunes and scat specials on the piano. The bartender places a blueberry martini in front of Emerson and a dirty martini in front of me. Emerson and I look at him, surprised. He shrugs. “I heard that was what she wanted.” Looking at me, he continues, “And that dog of an ex-boyfriend of yours doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

  I beam. “Thank you. That’s very kind, and exactly what I would have ordered.” I leave a forty-dollar tip—it’s what the two drinks and a moderate tip would have cost—and we wander to a booth where we can visit without attracting too much attention.

  Emerson looks at me critically. “Are you okay?”

  “I’ll tell you all about it when everyone is here.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes. I took part of the afternoon off and went shop
ping.”

  “Did you cause a scene at Nordstrom today?” Sara asks as she walks up and kisses us both on the cheek.

  “How did you know?”

  “Because you made TMZ again. Someone got it on video.”

  “I hope it didn’t look like I was being a bitch.”

  “You never do, which is why everyone loves you. Me, on the other hand, they think I’m the ice queen.”

  I scoff. “They do not!”

  “It’s the resting bitch face they always get when they take my picture.”

  We’re down to giggles when the server arrives. “What would you like to drink?”

  “I’d like a pineapple-tini,” Sara says.

  “I’ll take one of those,” Cynthia agrees as she walks up and gives us all a hug.

  “How about a dragon fruit-tini?”

  “Oh, that sounds good. I’ll take one of those,” Hadlee says as she arrives.

  “I’ll take a classic gin martini,” Greer announces, pulling up a chair.

  Everyone is here, and we have a table in the back. Life is very good.

  We have four conversations going at once. This is my posse, and I would be lost without my pack of great friends. My women who will support me through thick and thin.

  “Where is Liam?” Greer asks.

  “He’s at home with Dillon. I needed a break. He’s demanding and not sleeping. It’s good for both of them.” She gets out her phone, and we all swoon over the pictures. “He’s getting to be quite the chubby little boy.”

  “That’s because you don’t produce milk, you produce cream. He’s perfect,” I share.

  “As his doctor, I can attest that he is absolutely perfect,” Hadlee says.

  The conversation goes from there. We work our way around and learn everything going on with everyone. Cynthia shares her wedding plans. Sara and Trey are working hard on Trey’s nonprofit for underprivileged kids who have an aptitude for science and computers. Hadlee and Cameron have found a new group to ride their Harley with. Greer is busy enjoying her husband’s vineyard. We all have so many great things going for us.

  “Okay, missy. Why the SOS?” Hadlee presses.

  I look up, trying to fight the tears. Leaning in, I tell them, “Metro had our fall line stolen by a Chinese cosmetics company.”

  Sara sits up straight. Not only is she married to my brother, but she’s a lawyer. “What do you mean?”

  “Desire magazine sent over the ad slicks for a competitor, and they have the exact same palette along with the same names and packaging.”

  “What can you do?” Emerson asks.

  “The FBI tells me the Chinese have records that they’ve been working on it for months,” I share.

  “That’s bullshit!” Cynthia announces.

  “I agree. Jim has looked into it, and we believe it’s a lie. There’s no way they’re so similar by happenstance. I had lunch with Walker Clifton today, and he’s going to light a fire under the team at the FBI,” I tell them.

  “I’m so glad you can do that,” Greer acknowledges.

  “How’s Mason?” Emerson asks, trying to change the subject.

  “He went into the office today. Sara, you probably know more than I do,” I deflect.

  “He left about an hour after he arrived. He looked absolutely exhausted,” Sara answers.

  “I’m sure he was. The doctors told him not to do much, and he ignored them.” I shake my head with a bit of disappointment. I didn’t check in on him today. I wanted to, but the day got away from me, and well, to be honest, I didn’t want him to think I was stalking him.

  “Why is that not surprising?” Cynthia asks.

  “Now that you both are single…,” Emerson nudges.

  I shake my head. “I think that ship sailed a long time ago.” These women are my best friends and until Mason and I get this figured out, I want to keep it close to my vest. They would put the pressure on him and if he’s not there, it could scare him away.

  “Have you jumped him yet?” Hadlee presses.

  “What? No. Of course not.” I’m shocked that they think I should get involved with Mason. They know as well as I do that if it were to go sideways, we would no longer have a nice and cohesive group of friends.

  “Well, why not?” Cynthia asks.

  I want to. I’ve wanted Mason for a long time, and knowing he’s broken up with Annabelle, I’m open to the opportunity, but he’s not given me any indication that he’s interested. How do I tell this to my friends? The people who support me through thick and thin? They’d put pressure on Mason, and that would be a huge mistake in our group. It would divide us, and it would destroy the chemistry we’ve worked so hard to build over the years. “We’re only friends. Plus, he just got out of the hospital.”

  The rest of the night, we talk in circles. Thankfully we avoid the conversations about Frederic and his porn star girlfriend.

  Suddenly, Hadlee jumps up. “I have to go. I just looked at the clock, and it’s after eight. I promised to be home by now.”

  Emerson looks startled. “Liam needs me. I should go, too.”

  Slowly but surely, we all make our excuses and head home. In the rideshare, I think about how much I love my friends. They’re amazing. They’re all coupled up except for me. I guess I could always fall back on Walker—no, not a chance. I want a marriage of love, not one of convenience.

  I’m lost in my thoughts when the driver asks, “Isn’t this your stop?”

  “Oh. Sorry. Yes, I was just thinking about something else.” I open the car door and exit. “Thank you.”

  He drives away without a word, and I open my front door. The lights are on timers throughout the house, so thankfully I don’t enter in darkness. I can hear the television on in the media room.

  Walking back, I see Mason sleeping in one of the reclining chairs. I debate on covering him with a blanket or waking him to move him to his bed, deciding on the latter. He’ll sleep better in his own bed.

  I turn the television off and jostle his shoulder. “Mason? Let’s get you in bed.”

  “Huh? I fell asleep waiting for you.”

  “Waiting for me?”

  “Yes, I wanted to know how things went today.”

  “I’ll tell you about it tomorrow. Come on, you won’t sleep well out here.”

  “Okay,” he says, only half awake.

  I lead him to his room and tuck him into bed.

  “I wish you’d stay with me,” he murmurs.

  “Do you need me to stay?”

  “No, I just want you to stay.” He crashes on the pillow and breathes a steady rhythm.

  I wouldn’t mind crawling into bed with him, but unfortunately, when he woke up and didn’t want me there, it would make for an awkward conversation. Turning the lights out, I head to my room and undress before crawling into my very empty king-size bed.

  What a day. I’m just hoping to not see too many of these in the future.

  Chapter seven

  Mason

  I arrive at the Top of the Mark restaurant early. It has a stunning three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view of the city as it sits atop the 104th floor of the Intercontinental Mark Hopkins hotel in the financial district downtown. It’s a bit touristy, but it's one of the few places that’s quiet, and I’ll be able to talk to CeCe rather than yell across the table to be heard.

  I’ve preordered the chocolate soufflé and brought along a dozen white roses. She thinks she’s meeting a group of our friends, not just me. Emerson planted the idea in my head a few weeks ago, and I realized she was right. I owe CeCe this and so much more. I also plan on making my move. I’d rather she tell me to pound sand than to always wonder what could have been. I may not be an actual prince, but I’m ready to make my case.

  I see her crossing the restaurant. She looks amazing in her emerald green pantsuit. “Are we first?” She looks around the restaurant, scanning for our friends. “That never happens to me.”

  “It’s only us tonight.”

 
She looks at me, startled.

  “I wanted to thank you for hosting me for the last month in your home. I’m finally feeling good enough to go to work beyond lunch.”

  I hand her the roses.

  “Oh my goodness, they’re beautiful!” She draws in a big breath through her nose. “They smell amazing. You didn’t have to do any of this.” She smiles, and I see what all the tabloids seem to capture—a brilliant white smile full of honesty and caring. She rocks my world.

  “I wanted to.”

  The waiter arrives to take our drink orders. Talk about lousy timing.

  “I’ll have a Jonny Walker Blue straight up,” CeCe declares.

  “That sounds good. I’ll have the same.”

  The waiter leaves, and we’re alone again.

  “How are things going with the investigation into the Chinese company?” I ask.

  “They’re at least working on it. I don’t think the FBI would’ve done anything if Walker Clifton hadn’t lit a fire under them.”

  “I hate to think that’s true. Those two agents were just imbeciles.”

  “Well, that’s one way of putting it.”

  Our drinks arrive, and we toast to my health.

  I lift my glass of amber liquid, suddenly anxious. “A toast. To you. You are beautiful, gracious, and generous. Thank you for allowing me to stay with you while I recuperated.”

  We clink our glasses and take a sip. “Thank you, though it wasn’t any problem.”

  “You’ve watched my dog for the last three months. She isn’t going to want to go home with me. Did you know Angela cooks her dinner each night?”

  “I didn’t know, but it doesn’t surprise me.”

  “Well, I don’t think Misty has any plans on moving home with me.” I chuckle.

  “She can stay as long as she’d like. And frankly, I don’t think you should move home yet. I know you’re anxious to sleep in your own bed, and we can easily move it over if it’s important, but I still think until the doctor tells you otherwise, you should remain at my house.”