Page 68 of The Bossy Billionaire

While I still feel unsettled about where Huxley and I stand, I feel a little more in control of my life. I feel like I am setting the course rather than reacting to one other people set for me. I see the children pile in, and my smile is small, but it is there. I feel accomplished. I have put out an ad for more staff, and I have plans to speak to Dwayne in the next few days about his termination. Due to all the media attention, business in the store has grown. Financially, the past week or two have far exceeded any other week this year.

“Hello, Miss Lucy!” a cute little girl, whom I recognize as a regular, squeaks next to me.

“Hello, Miss Sophia. How are you today?” I say, widening my smile. I have my contacts back in today. I still have on jeans and a sweater, but they are new and much nicer, fit better, and make me feel comfortable but also confident.

“I’m good. We had to write in school this morning about what we wanted to be when we grew up!” she says excitedly, and my grin doesn’t falter.

“Oh, how exciting. What do you want to be?” I ask, waiting for her to say a hairdresser, astronaut, or princess, like most of the other kids do.

“You! I want to be just like you!” she says, grinning from ear to ear, and I almost stumble. She wants to be like me?

“Wow, Sophia. I had no idea that you wanted to run a bookshop!” I say in awe and happiness.

“Yep. I want to have an awesome kids’ section like you have here. I want to do story time every week, because it is my favorite thing to do, and…” she says, taking a big breath, “I hope I can grow up to be just as pretty as you too.” She finishes with a cute blush to her cheeks.

“Sophia, you have made my day! Why don’t you go and pick the story that I will read today. Maybe you can sit in my armchair with me and help turn the pages?” I ask her, and she jumps up and down like I have just given her a million dollars, before squealing and running over to the shelf of books to start looking for the perfect one.

I sit in the warmth of her words for a moment as I look over the shop. Parents, kids, customers all gather, drinking coffee, talking, working, all of them smiling, and I lower my shoulders. While I still feel my heart empty, yearning for Huxley, I feel more and more like the old me every day. The young woman I was before the fire, before I lost my parents. I know Huxley has helped me find her, but I knew that I needed to bring her back on my own. That was on me. And I am almost there. If the burning, empty feeling in my chest would lessen, that would help.

“Excuse me?” a female voice says from my side, and I look around.

“Oh, hi,” I say with a smile because I recognize this woman.

“Hi, Lucy,” Valerie Van Cleef says, smiling, and I try to school my startled face with a small nod. She is well known in the city, one of the rich socialites I believe my brothers know.

“Yes, hello!” I say with slight hesitation, but intrigue.

“Great to see you again. I have been coming to Bloomers for years, but I haven’t been in here for a little while now. I heard what happened. I hope you are alright?” she says, the genuine concern on her face warming me. For a moment, I think she is talking about Huxley, but then it dawns on me she is talking about the rock through the window.

“Well, we are all okay, and my brothers did a good job of fixing up the place for me,” I tell her, smiling.

“Well, they are great guys. Listen, I know now isn’t the right time, but I would be keen to chat with you some more in the next few weeks about the new literacy program that you will be running here. At the gala, when Harrison raised the money for it, I was interested, and I try to support a lot of local charities here in Baltimore as best I can. So I would love to learn more about your plans and see if there is anything I can do to help.” I almost choke on my own saliva. Valerie Van Cleef and her family run Van Cleef Corp, a large billion-dollar company that invests in all kinds of business. They are equal to the Rothschilds in financial means and just as well known. To have her support, as well as her friendship, has taken me by surprise.

“Wow, sure. I mean, we are just getting started, but the need is high,” I tell her. This conversation is already making me feel even more confident in myself. A high-profile woman such as Valerie, along with all my brothers and their partners, that is a lot of money and connections to have on board. The opportunities for this program and Bloomers are really opening up.

“Great, well, I will get out of your hair. I know today is kids’ day, and it looks like they are waiting for you. I’ll call later in the week and set up some time for us. Speak soon.” I watch her step away and out the door, smile in place. It’s almost like she floats, she is so well put together and so friendly. I can’t help but smile even wider.

I blow out a breath and look around. Kids are everywhere, the shop is busy, coffee is being made constantly, and there is an excited hum to the place. I feel good.

“Lucy?” a voice says from next to me, and I whip around, smiling before it falters. It is her. Amy. I look around to see if anyone is with her, but she appears alone. My anxiety spikes at seeing her, but I am also a little relieved that she is here and not with Huxley in Whispers.

“Yes. Can I help you with something?” I ask, clearing my throat, wondering what the hell she is doing here. In my space. In my home.

“Yes, actually, you can. I need you to stay away from Huxley,” she says, folding her arms across her chest in a challenge.

“Excuse me?” I ask, eyes narrowing.

“Huxley is my fiancé, and you need to leave him alone.” Her words drip with warning, her stance reminding me of a spoiled teenager who is about to throw a tantrum and stomp her feet for not getting her own way.

“But you haven’t been with him for years?” I say, knowing I should just shut up, my heart pounding, my chest hurting, my leg starting to ache even more. This is what should happen right? She and Huxley need to be a family?

“No, but it is his ring on my finger,” she says, holding up the largest diamond I have ever seen with a big shit-eating grin on her face. It sparkles in the lights like it is brand new. “He gave it to me last night. Solidifying our relationship again.”

The world spins, and I feel dizzy. Isn’t he in Whispers? Did he lie to me? Has he been with her these past few days?

“But he…” I start, but I can’t get my words out.

“I don't want to have to ask you again. If you don’t stay away from him, then the people of Baltimore will know you are just like your mother. I heard Mrs. Rothschild was a real peach. Very skilled at sleeping with other people's husbands,” she seethes.

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