Page 4 of Beauty and her Billionaire Beast
Well, I’m the one whodid.
I went off to college and didn’t bat an eyelash to leave her in my rearview mirror and not look back. It was a dick move on mypart. She hadn’t done a thing to me, except for being the only female friend I had. But doing fucked up shit was and still is right up my alley, so I guess it was par for thecourse.
Physically giving my head a shake to get her out of my mind, I look over at Foster again. “I need to take a piss. Try not to verbally offend anyone while I’m gone.” I raise my eyebrows at him, but I’m not totallyconvinced that the message gets through. The man seems to overcompensate for the fact that I barely ever string together two full sentences with people who aren’t close to me. Right now, his eyes are fixated on something in the distance. Orsomeone.
“You know I can’t promise anything, but I’ll be over there…at the bar. I think I just saw Lilac pass by with someguy.”
I follow hiseyes to the corner of the massive room. He’s right. That redhead looks just like his virgin auction purchased, almost-bride. “Well, good luck with that,” I tell him. “I’ll do my rounds for a few minutes to show my face, then we can blow this crapheap.”
“Cool. Just don’t ask me to bail you out when your dazzling baby blues lock onto some chick you ain’t interestedin.”
“I can holdmy own when it comes to letting a woman downeasy.”
He nods and turns to leave. “Yeah whatever. Come look for me when you’re ready to headout.”
I can almost feel the sweat trickling down the back of my neck as I push my way through the thick crowd of bodies. There must’ve been some snag in the wedding planner’s vision for the evening. Maybe the happy couple’s guest list took ona life of its own after the fact. It’d explain the large numbers. I look around and figure there’s got to be four to five hundred people in here. Like the weather, people can be unpredictable, so maybe they’re doing her best to work with whatever went down. Like a trooper. It’s a shame they hadn’t planned for the sweat fest that the party’s becoming. Tents would’ve definitely worked outbetter.
I manage to find enough of a break in the throngs of bodies to get to a bathroom, and once inside I splash some water on my face to cool down. All this drinking over such a short period of time isn’t the best combination with this heat. I need to slow down if I don’t want to end up completely shit-faced. Not that I’m against that level of excess drinking. But Pops is around here somewhere,and he’s one person I won’t dare lose control around. He’ll probably take advantage of my inebriation to try to hook me up with someone he considers to be a good fit for our family’s social status. I can almost picture the old man’s face as I recall the way he told me something almost to that effect just daysago.
Handing over the reins like that isn’t something I’d do willing. Ever. Ilost so much fucking control over my life when I lost my parents that I can’t allow myself to let go of another inch. Won’t. Control is power, and I hold onto every shred of it now. Even if my grandfather meanswell.
I glance at my reflection in the mirror while running my hand through my dark brown hair. This neutral, blank expression on my face is a mask. It took me years to master. Itsaves me the headache of having to explain myself to people. It covers the rage, grief, and overall emotion-packed shit storm of turmoil that can bubble up to the surface at any given time. But even now, even with these empty eyes, and with a face as disfigured as mine is now, I manage to attract way more attention from women around me than I want, need, or should for that matter. I figured outit’s this scar across my jaw that’s a fucking chick magnet, fuck if I know why. I call it rugged good looks, which is more rugged than good, because I’m no pretty boy. Still, whatever it is that draws the ladies my way provides enough distraction to take my pick of whoever I want when I feel like having a piece of ass. And that’s perfect, since I’m nowhere near ready to settle down. I’m upfront aboutit with the women I fuck, so as long as they understand where my head’s at, what’s theharm?
Leaving the rest room, I head to the nearest open bar. My body can handle another drink or two, but then it’s time to leave. I also need to get Foster out of here before he does something stupid. It’s his M.O. The concept of keeping it together for appearances is foreign to him. But that’s why weget along. Somewhere between his knack for being a loose cannon and my need for control, we balance each other out. Although he’s probably already driving some unlucky son of a bitch past the edge of their patience or mouthing off somewhere around here. It’s the last thing anyone needs at an engagement celebration. When we hang out, we’re far better off at some nondescript nightclub where no oneknows uspersonally.
I make my way back out into the party, scanning every face as I look for him. Even the women’s faces. He went looking for Lilac at the bar near the front entrance so that’s probably the best place to start. There’s a chance I’ll hear him before I see him, though I’d prefer to catch sight of his board shorts ifpossible.
Then I seeher.
I stop in my tracksas a familiar cascade of silky light brown hair catches my eye. I’m not sure why I assume this might be the girl I’m suddenly reminded of, since it’s been years since I last saw her. My heart stops dead in my chest. All the air empties from my lungs. A warm glow of light shines down on her figure, highlighting her every curve underneath that shimmery red cocktail dress she’swearing.
It’sdefinitelyher.
IsabelleHarrison.
MyBelle.
Though I’m the only person she ever allowed to call her by thatnickname.
I move closer without really intending to. It’s as if an invisible force is pulling me toward her without either of us trying. And although her back is turned and I haven’t seen her face, something deep in my gut tells me it has to be her, and I can’tresist the urge to findout.
Isabelle and her family lived across the street from my grandfather’s place. I got to know her better after my parents died, but like Foster, we more or less knew each other in passing whenever my parents took me on their short visits to see Pops, long before they passed. She’s about three years younger than me, but her mildly curious, highly intelligent, yetmostly quiet nature back then made it so the age difference didn’t matter. She quickly became my only female friend, and was one of the only people I let get close to me after my parents died. Isabelle knew me. She could look at me and know exactly when I wanted to talk about shit, and when I didn’t want to say a word. Not once did she force a conversation or ask me how I was holding up, or theusual fucked up questions adults and kids would ask after the death of a lovedone.
Lovedones.
That alone made her the perfect femalefriend.
Everyone thought we’d end up together while we were growing up. During my late teens, most people figured we actually were together, but neither of us ever crossed that line. She was just as gorgeous back then as I imagine she is now,and sure, staying on my side of that line took effort on my part. But our friendship meant something to us, way more than a piece of ass to call fuck of the month, way more than a few hours in the back seat of my car, which was the full range of what every other girl got from me. My high school buddies were always dropping hints that Isabelle and I had a thing going, but we didn’t. She was justmyBelle.
Then I left forcollege.
That was when I pulled away from her. I still have no fucking idea why. It just happened, with the distance, and my choosing not to go home to see Pops on school breaks didn’t help. My focus turned to filling my days and nights with the college party scene. In no time at all, in between showing up for the odd college lecture and doing as littleas possible to hand in substandard course papers, my life revolved around getting drunk, getting high, fucking everything in a skirt, and fighting in the underground kickboxingcircuit.
Isabelle got packed away in a quiet corner of my mind. And now, looking at this woman who I think must be her, I see now that I was dead fucking wrong for leaving her behind. I should never have ditchedthe one girl who was there for me when no one else was. I shouldn’t have neglected ourfriendship.
Almost as if she can sense my eyes on her back, she begins to turn around to face me. She can just as soon hug me as punch me in the jaw, all things considered. And maybe not knowing which one is what pushes me to close in on her. I want to see her reaction. To find out what emotion has dominatedher thoughts when it comes to the memory of me. Which one? Or is it more than one? Will her eyes light up with excitement or the fire of wrath for me? I’m not one to make a scene at someone’s party but I need toknow.
When she finally recognizes that it’s me, her eyes widen in shock. It’s Isabelle all right. I’d recognize those deep hazel eyes anywhere. And she’s a woman now. She’s growninto her slim-hipped teenage body and now has the most incredible curves I’ve ever seen. Maybe I’m a little stunned too, I can’t take my eyes off of her. And fuck, all I can think about now is how stunning and sexy this woman is. It’s beyond me how I managed to be just friends with her back then. To me, she was always stunningly pretty. I just never saw her as anything but my friend. The girl Iused to know has become a true beauty from head to toe, and I don’t know what the hell I should do about that, but my dick has a damn good idea what it wants as I maneuver around the party guest and make my way toher.
