Page 39 of The Charming Billionaire

“You leave your dick out of it,” Tennyson pushes. “What happened to I'm staying away from women and focusing on my governorship campaign?” he continues, and he is right, of course. I told them all I was swearing off women for the length of my campaign, and I have done the complete opposite.

“He’s not marrying her.” Ben sticks up for me as the four of us get into the golf cart to go and find our balls.

“Stop talking about her like that,” I snap, hating them for talking about her like she is just a random woman I met. She is so much more than that.

All three look at me, gobsmacked.

“Holy shit. You like her, like her. Likereallylike her?” Ben says in awe.

“Oscar is going to be pissed,” says Eddie, shaking his head with a smile.

“I don’t give a shit what Oscar thinks. She is different. I can’t explain it. She isn’t interested in my money, my family, or my business. Her head is not stuck in her phone or taking selfies. She is independent, strong, resilient, intelligent, kind, fucking beautiful…” I trail off. My brothers are quiet as I watch them all gaping at me.

“But we need to keep it quiet. At least until the end of the campaign,” I say, dropping the truth bomb like it hurts. My brothers are still for another beat.

“So she will be your dirty little secret? You know how that is going to look if it gets out?” Eddie says, clearly not happy with the situation, already being a big fan of Beth’s.

“It won’t. Only you three and Beth know. And I am keeping it that way,” I grumble, not liking it at all, but knowing that this is how it has to be.

“So what are you going to do about Lilly?” Eddie asks.

“Lilly is deaf to anything I say. I have spoken to her already. I have spoken to Mom as well. They don’t seem to understand that being with Lilly is not something I want. She is a great girl, we all know that, but she is like our sister.”

“Her father wasn’t happy last night. He didn’t like your hand on Beth when you introduced her to him, and so don’t be surprised if he ends his support for your campaign,” Eddie says as we drive down the freeway to our balls.

“Doesn’t matter, I got Arthur,” I state, having not told anyone yet about the fantastic news Beth delivered to me last night.

“What?” Eddie stops the cart sharply, and we all fall forward.

“Arthur Stratten?” Ben asks in shock, the man no one thought would ever support a Rothschild publicly now doing exactly that.

“How the hell did that happen?” Tennyson asks, looking dumbfounded.

“Beth.”

“Beth?” Ben asks, eyes widening.

“No wonder you fucked her,” Tennyson says, and I lean over and punch him in the arm. He is the second youngest of us four boys, younger than me by only a few years, but he is just as tall and broad, so I feel like I hit cement.

“Not that I have to explain anything to you three single assholes, but she is good with people, excellent in the community, loves talking and helping. She is gold for me and for my campaign.”

“Is that all she is gold for?” Ben asks, trying to gauge where my feelings are with it all. Perceptive, as always.

“No. She is fucking ingrained in me. Now, let’s get back to the game,” I say as I jump out of the cart to my ball in the scrub. Standing tall, my brothers are silent as I take my shot. I hit again and watch my ball fly through the air, soaring close to the putting green before leaning left and landing right in the bunker.

This is going to be a long fucking game.

19

BETH

Icould not feel any further from how I did last night. Literally less than twenty-four hours ago, I was being primped and polished by the team of magicians that Harrison sent to my hotel for the event his mother planned. Before the billionaire himself made a meal out of me for the remainder of the night.

Today, however, I am on my roof, in the oldest clothes I have so I don’t get anything decent from my wardrobe ruined by the muddy slush I am combing from the gutters. As the gray clouds that were in the distance this morning now close in on me in the late afternoon, I rush to try to find the hole in the roof that is causing the leak into our ceiling.

Usually, this is something a landlord would fix, but Dad and I made a deal with him that for a lower rent, we would do all the maintenance ourselves. At the time, we thought that nothing would need fixing and, for a few years, we were right. But as the house gets older, it is not as nice as it once was, and after almost fifteen years in this place, it is starting to get even more rundown.

“Dammit!” I curse under my breath, hoping to find the hole and plug it all before Dad gets home from the center and yells at me for being on the roof. I dig my hand under the gutters and feel if I can find the area where the rain tumbles. The damp ceiling looks worse today than it did last week. So I know that if I don’t find it and try to plug it in, that the maintenance and repairs required to fix it will skyrocket.

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