Page 20 of My Christmas Billionaire

“Why are you tempted?” I say with amusement, and she shakes her head as if pitying me.

“When I worked undercover, I caught no less than ten shoplifters in one day. They were only the ones I saw, which means you have a serious problem.”

Now I’m listening and she carries on, unaware how much her words anger me.

“It’s obvious whatever security measures there are in place aren’t up to the job, and I’m guessing thousands of pounds of profit leak through your system every day.”

I say nothing and she continues. “You enjoy no loyalty from your staff who are using their positions to gain information about your business practices. Without naming names, one individual told me if you fired him, he would sell your secrets to the highest bidder. The only conversation regarding you is how ruthless you are and therefore your staff owe you absolutely nothing at all.”

“Except their monthly pay checks, that is.”

I am fuming, and she laughs out loud. “For a hard day’s work. Have you ever worked in your own store doing what they do, or lived their lives and walked in their shoes? Of course not, because men like you get offered everything on a silver platter and expect the rest of mankind to respect you for it. Honestly, it’s men and women like you that make the rest of us angry. Why should we struggle and scrape by working all the hours we can just to look up to people like you who think they are above us?”

“You know nothing about me.”

I am already regretting my decision to spend time with this woman, and she says with amusement.

“Ok, tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you suffered to get where you are and everything you own was achieved through hard work and sacrifice.”

“It’s true.” I can almost taste her triumph. “I am fortunate. My family is wealthy, and I’ve always been surrounded by money. I attended the best private schools and never had to work hard for anything material in my life.”

“I knew it.”

“But wealth isn’t only about money and material things.”

“They help.”

“What if I admitted I am the poorest person I know for love.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Her bored response does little to make me feel any better and if anything, I’m surprised I even said what I did but now it’s out I ponder on it for a moment and say ruefully, “All of my life I’ve had something to prove. That I was the best academically, had the best manners, and excelled at everything I put my mind to. Anything that didn’t make money or allow you to grow as a person was deemed irrelevant and so family days out to the beach, to watch a movie, or just to eat junk food was forbidden.”

“My heart breaks for you.”

She sounds bored and yet I can’t stop now I’ve started and for some reason the words begin to flow.

“I spent my youth at museums, cathedrals and chess club. Any friends I had were soon bored because I wasn’t allowed sleepovers, to attend parties or enrol in sports after school. During the holidays I had a private tutor, and I worked every day. If we went abroad, the tutor came too, and we would play chess as the only means of relaxation.”

She remains silent and I say bitterly, “When it came to exams only A stars were good enough. If I got less, I was forced to study longer and harder and re-take them. Working hard was my life and even television was made up of documentaries to stimulate my brain and I saw none of the popular films that my fellow students would discuss between class.”

“That’s not a bad thing.” I may be mistaken, but her voice has softened a little and I say with interest, “What makes you say that?”

“Well, it obviously worked because you’re successful.”

“Am I?”

I stop at the traffic lights and glance at her in the dim light of dusk. I’m not sure if I’m right, but she is regarding me with a very different expression now. A little curious, some pity and, if I’m not mistaken, more interest than before.

“You have money, billions, so I understand. How did that happen? Did you win the EuroMillions?”

She grins, and it shocks me so much I forget where we are and it’s only the honking of horns behind me that returns my attention to the road. For a moment I don’t answer because I am reliving that expression in my mind. If anything, I’m shocked at my reaction to her. In that one second, I saw a different side to the woman who has captured my attention so readily and now I’ve seen a sliver of who she is behind the mask she wears so fiercely, I am keen to pull the rest off and discover the treasure within.

“So did you?” Her soft voice wafts around my soul, shaking me back to reality and I grip the wheel a little tighter and say dismissively, “Something like that.”

Luckily, the sat nav speaks up with a resounding,“You have arrived at your destination. Your destination is on your right.”

As I pull into a small car park, Jessica says briskly, “Park in the space by the green car. It’s the one I’ve been allocated, although I don’t drive.”

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