Page 11 of The Damaged Billionaire

“I’m so sorry, he has a mean right kick,” a woman’s voice says from behind, and I spin around, ready to give her a piece of my mind, but the words get stuck on my lips.

It’s her.

Am I dreaming? I turn quickly and look at my brothers and Beth to ensure I am not imagining this, before my eyes land back on her. She is just how I remember. I never thought I’d see her again. But now she is here. In front of me. In the flesh.

“Tennyson, this is Willow Valentine. CEO of Valentine Management and your new babysitter,” Beth tells me tentatively from beside us as my brothers look on.

“Willow…” I say her name, liking the feel of it on my lips.

“Tennyson,” she says quietly, and I see recognition in her eyes. I step toward her, my eyes glued to hers, and am about to grab her elbow and pull her close, but she retreats. I still, watching her swallow, her jaw set. She doesn’t want me to touch her.

She doesn’t want me…?

I look back around at my brothers; all eyes are on me, and I feel like a deer caught in headlights.

I need to get out of here. I need a fruiting whiskey.

CHAPTER NINE - WILLOW

“Willow is who we have hired to help you get on track with things. She is a good friend of mine and will be great for you. She can help you with everything from media and interviews, positive press, and reputational management in terms of how to elevate your personal brand,” Beth says by way of explanation as she and Tennyson’s brothers walk swiftly behind Tennyson as he stalks into Ben’s house.

I follow behind them all, observing him to get to know his mannerisms and traits. I feel like a total bitch. He came to me, and I stepped away. I didn’t want to. I wanted to do the opposite. But I knew if I touched him, I would feel something I shouldn’t, and even though I will be working closely with him over the next few months, I also need to keep my distance emotionally.

I never get involved with clients. It is my number one rule.

My nerves dance in my stomach, keeping me on edge. I don’t normally feel like this with a new client, so I need to get my head in the game. I need to remain professional. The first meeting is always when I must cement my dominance. They need to see me as their boss, which is hard, because most of my clients never have to answer to anyone. They are the ones at the top of the pecking order. That all changes, though, when they work with me.

“You have hired me a fucking babysitter?” Tennyson seethes as we all gather behind him, and I watch as he heads straight to the bar. So predictable. Most people in stressful situations consume alcohol. They use it as a crutch, and it appears Tennyson is no different.

“Willow works with politicians down in DC. She is excellent at her job,” Harrison says, and his comment fills me with pride. It is nice to have the governor acknowledge my skills. Tennyson huffs out a laugh as he pours three fingers before turning to look at us all standing behind him, the glass firm in his grip.

His eyes fall to me, and I meet his gaze before my eyes drop to the glass in his hand and back to his face again. I can see the moment when he realizes that he is now proving their point. I watch his jaw clench and almost feel his frustration from where I stand near the doorway. I know his brothers have judgment in their faces, but I try to remain impartial.

As his gaze washes over me, it’s like he is seeing me for the first time. There is still heat in his eyes, accompanied by some hurt. He is very confused, both by the intervention that his brothers have sprung on him, but also from seeing me. I force myself not to melt under his attention. My heart lurches for him, my empathy radar almost pinging out of my chest for how he must be feeling. This is why I am good at what I do. I can tell when my clients need me, but I am an expert, and in many cases, I have to be tough on them, the media, and the people around them. I haven’t made it this far in my career by falling into my naturally soft and compassionate personality. I bring the heat, I put on my tough exterior, and I show them who is boss when necessary. I have to; otherwise, my clients would walk all over me. Instead, I mix the two; it is what has made me and my business so successful. My body remains stiff as I push all my feelings for this man to the back of my brain, locking them up tight.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me!” he seethes, slamming the full glass back on the bar and stalking toward the window, now wanting to get as far away from it as possible.

“And you two are in on this as well?” he asks his other brothers, both who have been quieter than Beth and Harrison. They both nod solemnly.

“Firstly, I don’t have a problem with my reputation. My reputation is excellent,” he says as he rubs his head, the lump already starting to form from the soccer ball. His statement causes me to roll my lips before I laugh out loud. His reputation is so close to being in tatters and he doesn’t even realize it.

“Secondly, I don’t party every weekend,” he continues, but no one in the room is believing a word he is saying.

“Thirdly, I am not sleeping my way through the city,” he finishes, glancing at me before he looks down. I now understand why law was not what he went into. He is terrible at proving his points. He doesn’t buy what he is selling and neither does his audience.

All his brothers look at me, defeat clear on their turtle faces. Interventions never go well. It is always hard for my clients to see that they could make improvements. It is often not until they make a massive mistake that tarnishes their reputation for years that they finally admit they have a problem. Lucky for Tennyson, his brothers got onto this early, and we have time to turn it all around without a big issue arising.

It is my turn to step in.

“Tennyson,” I say, his name falling from my lips too easily, and he looks at me. I can tell in his eyes he needs a professional like me; I just wish his gaze didn’t hold so much desire. It would make it a lot easier. “Partying every weekend, hooking up with a variety of women, drinking, spending like you do, none of these things are necessarily bad. In fact, most men are active in all these areas. It is pretty normal for a wealthy single man in the city these days.” I shrug because it is true. I slowly walk farther into the room, acting as if it is no big deal, and all his brothers look at me as though I am crazy.

“See!” Tennyson gestures to me like I am proving his point, giving me a small smile, accompanied by a look of hope.

“But…” I continue, and his head swivels back to me. “You are not a normal man, you are a Rothschild. You are brother to the governor. A governor who would like to make a run for presidency of this country in the coming years and will have no hope of winning if his family is not the clean-cut, all-American family he needs to portray. He will have enough trouble with your mother, so he doesn’t need to manage your activities as well.”

“You want to run for president?” he asks, his eyebrows rising as he looks to Harrison.

“It is something Beth and I have been talking about. Something I would like to do.” Harrison nods, and I see Tennyson smile. I feel my nails dig into the skin of my palm again as I try not to be affected by his obvious affection for his brother. I swallow, tuning back into my business exterior. My work personality. The tough side.

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