Page 36 of The Billionaire's Heart

My parents may not have wanted me, but I learned early on, from one of my teachers in grade school, that if I don’t love and respect myself, then I will never amount to anything in this world. Mrs. Olsen was my fourth-grade teacher and knew at that time that I was living in a group home. I think she felt bad for me and in turn she spent extra time with me. And I ate up the extra attention because I wasn’t getting much at home.

I’ve always repeated what she told me whenever I feel sorry for myself. ‘No one in this life is just going to give you something for free… you must either work for it or you must give up something for it. It will be up to you on which path you choose.’ With those wise words, I knew I needed to put myself first in everything I did, and that included whether or not I wanted to get myself into drugs.

Drugs were available to me everywhere I went, but I never took the opportunity. And now, at almost thirty years old, I’m glad I didn’t. I know some kids I was in the group homes with never made it to my age because they took a different path. I paid attention from the sidelines and have never regretted it.

Later in the article, the reporter had also talked to some of my former roommates, who also told some tall tales about me and my living habits, but nothing as rage-inducing as James’ interview. Then, as a kick in the gut, there is a picture of my car parked outside of my apartment. Great. Now the world knows how to find me. I couldn’t be more grateful to be here with Ian as I am right now. I suppose I’m not on the sidelines anymore. I’ve managed to get myself right in the middle of all this shit.

I close the app and throw my phone across the bed and watch it bounce off the mattress and onto the floor with a thud. As soon as my phone thuds, there’s a knock on my door.

“Miss McIntosh? I’m Paula, Mr. Gallo’s house manager. I’ve brought you some coffee.”

Ian has a house manager? Who cares? She’s got coffee!

“Coming.” I climb out of bed, under protest because it’s a pretty great bed, and open the door. “Good morning.”

The older lady, maybe in her early fifties with the blackest hair I’ve ever seen, is standing in the hallway holding a tray with a coffee carafe, cream, sugar, and a blueberry muffin. “I hope you like blueberries. I haven’t had a chance to make any chocolate chip or banana muffins this morning, but I can have them tomorrow.”

“Blueberry is perfect. Actually, all of it is perfect. Thank you.” I move out of her way as she brings in the tray and places it on the table by the French doors to the balcony.

“My pleasure. Mr. Gallo asked me to tell you he’s working in his office and if you need him for anything, don’t hesitate to ask him. Or me, for that matter.” She smiles and her teeth are perfect. Like a Hollywood smile.

“Thank you. I will.”

Paula walks out the bedroom door and closes it behind her and I look over at my breakfast and it smells and looks delicious. Tweaking my coffee so that it’s perfectly too sweet for most people, I open the doors to the balcony and am completely mesmerized by the wave action happening on the beach down below. I could get used to this.

I’ve spent the morning avoiding my phone and sitting on the balcony watching the blue ocean waves. At one point, I saw a pod of dolphins swimming and jumping in the ocean. Being from Knoxville, where there are no oceans or dolphins, it was pretty special to see. I may have to root for the Dolphins football team just because of what I saw this morning. Not that I know a thing about football.

But this morning wasn’t all about killing time and staring at the water. It was about making a decision that will affect the rest of my life. Sounds dramatic, but it really will.

If I decide to play the fake fiancé, then all my dreams for my bridal shop will come true. Plus, I will have access to one of the world’s most successful business CEOs to help guide me in all things business related. It will be hard work, long hours, and there will be people out there that will say I dated Ian for the money, and they wouldn’t be technically wrong. But so what? What business would it be of theirs, right?

If I decide not to play the fake fiancé, I’ll go back to my normal life, although I’ll probably want to find a new town to start over in. Privacy will be all mine again and people will stop taking my picture or telling lies about me online. I can find a new job as something more than a receptionist. Ian's praise for my business plan has increased my self-confidence and belief in my business acumen. I’ve always known I could do more at work, but I always thought people wanted a college degree in order to hire me for the higher paying jobs out there. Maybe I could get a job in a bridal shop and start learning the trade from the inside.

With my decision made, I clean up my room and make my bed, which is something I’ve always done, even at home. This may not be my house, but this is my space for the moment, and I want to respect it as such. Getting dressed in my clothes from Saturday’s flight to Washington because I’ve got nothing else towear, I put on some light makeup, grab my breakfast tray, and go in search of Ian.

Chapter 18

Ian

Ibarely slept last night thinking about Mia and the fact that she’s under my roof, just down the hall from me. Twice I thought about her and my imagination ran away with me, and I had to clean myself up. I’m such a perv.

Then I started thinking about that article where the reporter interviewed her ex-boyfriend and the lies he had to have told. There’s no way most, if any, of it is true. I’ve done my background checks on Mia. She’s just not like that.

Since decent sleep was off the table, I finally gave up and went downstairs to the gym and then ran on the beach. That early in the morning, there wasn’t anyone to bother me, and I just pushed myself harder to finish faster. It’s really the best time of day to be on the beach.

When Paula, my house manager, came into work this morning, I told her about our houseguest, and she assured me she would make sure Mia is comfortable. Two women run my life. Mrs. Wilcox runs my professional life and Paula runs my home life. I have no idea how anything would get done if I didn’t have them both.

As I sit here reviewing the financials that Mrs. Wilcox couriered over to me regarding the Bahamas business deal, my phone rings and I see it’s Garrett.

“Hey man. I’m just going over the financials you sent to the office. These look very favorable for us to get this deal closed. This guy is underwater. Why on earth does he want to fight us on purchasing the other islands?” I answer the phone by pushing the speakerphone as I keep flipping through the financial documents.

“Not why I called, brother.” Garrett says.

“Why not? This is fantastic news.”

“You’re right. We’ll be able to get all four islands for a good deal. But what I want to know is ‘what the fuck’? You’re engaged?’”

Something across the room catches my eye, and I look up to find Mia standing in the doorway. She looks different somehow. Like she’s let go of some of her stress. Maybe she’s made a decision, or maybe she’s just been able to get some good sleep last night—unlike me. Damn, she looks good today.

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