Page 17 of The Billionaire Babe

“What’s happening?” I ask as we unpack our food containers on the kitchen counter, and I grab us two wineglasses.

“Everything was fine. I have the pieces ready. Catering, photography, my PR people have media coming, you girls will be there…” she says, and I push a glass of red wine to her. She takes a large gulp, and I raise my eyebrows.

“What happened?” I ask tentatively, knowing something with her jewelry showing is not working out for her.

“The security team I hired got a bigger and better gig somewhere else. I called them today to confirm numbers and they told me they double-booked and can no longer be at the event.” Her shoulders slump slightly, the fight slowly leaving her.

“Really?” I ask, a smile coming to my face.

“Really. What assholes. I booked them months ago… Wait… Why are you smiling?” Her eyes thin at me over the top of her wineglass.

“We need to sit down for this discussion.” Grabbing our food and wine, I walk into my living room and sit on my comfy sofa. I proceed to tell her all about the call I just had from Jimmy.

“Soooo, perhaps I can find AJ and ask if his company can do the job?” I ask her, to see if she is open to it. “Jimmy said they were new, so maybe they have room on their schedule?”

“That would be amazing. We’ve already seen them in action, so we know they are good. My store is small, so I will only need a few guys, and I really have no other contacts in the security business. I would be trawling through the internet to find someone tomorrow. Can you do it for me? Please?” she asks me, almost begging, and I laugh.

“Of course. Leave it with me. I will try to get in touch with AJ tomorrow and see if I can book them.” I’m happy to take something off her plate because I know she is stressed. She shouldn’t be. Her collection is fantastic, her craftsmanship is brilliant, and she already has amassed a good following of loyal customers.

“Have you seen this?” she asks me, her eyes looking at her cell.

“What?” I ask as I dig around in my food with the chopsticks. When she turns the phone to me, I almost choke on my noodle. There on her screen is a black-and-white photo of AJ, looking devilishly handsome with his trademark scowl.

“It’s on the Fortress website. Says here his name is AJ Steele. Very fitting name since he looks as hard as steel.” I grab her phone from her, my noodles now forgotten.

I scroll through, seeing a photo of the other guys, Brady and Cody too, but there isn’t much more information. “Jimmy said he is a boxer…” I tell her, my fingers already flying over the search bar on the internet as I put in his name and hundreds of images come up.

“Holy shit…” I whisper, my eyes wide as I look at picture after picture of a half-naked AJ in a boxing ring.

“What? Show me?” Chloe says, leaning over and snatching the phone.

“Oh… My…” She sighs as the two of us crowd around her phone. “Look, there are videos.” She clicks on one and the image comes to life as we watch AJ dance around the ring for a moment before he starts punching his opponent. He is hard, a wall of shiny muscle, and I swallow roughly as I look at his body. Not an inch of fat, his face focused, his eyes alight with fire, and his poor opponent absolutely no match as he goes down in a knockout, hitting the floor hard.

“Are you sure you want to have AJ as a contact?” Chloe asks me, sitting back on the sofa, looking at me warily. “You live a life of luxury, work with charities, went to an Ivy league school, have millions in the bank, not to mention you also have amazing friends. He just seems a little… rough. Different, dangerous.”

“Boxing is a sport, and he works in security. I wouldn’t say that is dangerous.” My body still hums from seeing him in action.

“That, honey, what we just watched, was not sport. That is anger, aggression, pain, blood. I am not even sure that they are following the true rules of boxing.”

My eyes flick back to the video that has now finished. She is right, but there is something about him. His intensity, his commitment, his manner, he has absolutely no fear. The complete opposite of me, as I have lived in constant fear for most of my life and even more so lately. Fear of disappointing my father, fear of being married off to the old oil baron, fear of not ever taking my rightful place as head of Van Cleef Corp. The role both my mother and grandmother were able to hold. Fear of being too fat, not good enough, not friendly enough. Just not enough, and I am sick of it.

“Also, don’t forget that little issue you have called your father. AJ Steele is not someone you can take home to meet the family, you know. Abigail would have a heart attack, and your father would have him sent to prison,” she says as she takes a sip of wine, watching me to see if her words penetrate. And they do. She is right. My father would not like me associating with someone like AJ. He is not someone he would approve of. That thought alone makes me realize that I no longer want or need my father’s approval. Not even a little bit.

My relationship with my father is deteriorating. Almost crumbling before my very eyes. There is nothing more I can do. I have done so much, and he still isn’t happy. So no more. I like AJ, I want to get to know him, and I no longer care what my father thinks.

“To be fair, I am just asking him to do your security job, not running off into the future with him. Besides, boxing is aggressive, yes. But it also takes discipline. It keeps you healthy in body and mind, and to be as good as AJ seems to be, that also takes commitment.”

“All true.” She nods. “And I do need security,” she confirms with a wink, and I smile.

“And he did rescue me from that guy at the club.”

“Also true.” She nods again. “Not to mention, he is the most good-looking man in this universe, and absolutely into you. I saw the way he stood next to you to make sure you were okay after that other asshole had his hands on you. You were both eye fucking each other. It was the hottest thing I have ever seen.” I blush at her comment. His touch is burned in my brain.

“And I am an adult. I don’t need my father to approve of all my choices,” I tell her, straightening my spine.

“Again, this is all true. But Val, and I say this with love. You have never gone against your father’s wishes before.” That statement doesn’t make me feel as good as it should. It makes me feel stupid. I am a strong, smart, successful woman. I can be strong on my own. I know I can.

I want to decide who I spend time with and who I eventually marry. I want to find my own hero. And I have a feeling I know just where to start.

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