Page 44 of The Damaged Billionaire

“I would say I am not sure anymore.” I offer her the only explanation I have.

“Did something happen to her? An accident or something?” I can see the confusion in her eyes. But that is the problem. I can’t remember all the details. I was young, impressionable, and only now am I starting to remember bits from that day, but none of them add up.

“Yeah, I was young. I can’t really remember, but for some reason, my memories are coming back, and I just get a sinking feeling that things are not as they seem,” I say on a sigh.

She looks at me for a beat and thankfully drops the subject.

“Okay. Well, no cheesecake here, only cupcakes,” she says, pulling away and opening a drawer.

“Well, there is really only one cupcake I love to eat,” I tell her with a cheeky grin.

“I heard that!” Saide screams from the living room and my eyes widen. I totally forgot there were people here.

“Here, put this on.” Willow throws an apron at me. I hold it up. It is pink with frills.

“What for?” I look at her as though she is crazy for even suggesting it.

“Because I would hazard a guess that suit you have on is designer and you are about to get busy.” She slides some empty bowls across the counter.

“I have never baked anything in my life…”

“I don’t doubt it. Here, measure out the milk.” Pushing the milk across to me, she gets busy measuring out the flour. I get a picture of what my life may be like with her. The TV blaring in the other room, her being a domestic goddess, and me just trying to keep up. It is complete contrast to my current lifestyle, yet I can’t help the smile that is cramping my face.

She makes me happy, and baking is her thing, so I pull on the frilly apron, roll up my sleeves, and get to work.

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX - WILLOW

I watch Tennyson in his designer suit, looking every bit the billionaire that he is. He’s sharp, his eyes clear and alive, his skin glowing. It’s in stark contrast to how he looked when I was first hired. I feel proud of him, of us, for getting him to be the best version of himself. This is why I love my job. This is why I do what I do. Tennyson is right. I love to rescue people, help them and then see them shine.

Tennyson is currently being interviewed by a journalist from Business News, this feature recorded to stream to the business community nationwide. It is a big deal, a great opportunity to highlight him as a businessman and also the great work that he is doing for Rothschild Construction. It will be positive for both he and his brothers, and from watching, I can already tell that this is what will firmly establish him to be taken seriously. This is his moment.

“He looks good,” a deep voice says, stepping up to my side where I stand in the dark shadows of this TV studio. Startled, I look up to see Tennyson’s brother, Ben, who’s looking equally dapper in his suit, his eyes not wavering from his brother.

“He does,” I agree and nod.

“I called his office, and Melody said he was down here. It appears you are a positive influence on my brother. I will admit, I was a bit worried about him. Looks like I don’t need to be anymore,” he says, looking at me now, giving me a small smile. I appreciate the kudos.

“He is talented, highly skilled, and one of the best businessmen I have worked with.” And I mean it. Many see Tennyson for his playboy lifestyle that flashes on the internet. Not the hardworking, successful man who I am trying to bring forward.

“He is,” Ben agrees with me, his eyes on me a little longer than necessary. He squints slightly, like he is trying to work me out, like I have a special power or something. “I am glad that the world finally gets to see it. And see him so happy,” Ben adds with another smile, one that makes me feel a little more settled.

“Looks can be deceiving.” I’m not sure what it is, but I know that Tennyson is battling something. I just can’t figure out exactly what it is.

“What do you mean?” Ben asks, his smile now gone.

“I don’t know. But he is carrying something heavy.” I sigh as I look back at the man who currently consumes my thoughts.

“Might have something to do with the calls my office is getting,” Ben says, and my head whips around to him.

“What calls?” I almost demand. The only way I can do my job is to be on top of everything. I don’t need surprises; they are so hard to manage. Ben looks at me for a beat, and I already know I am not going to like what he has to say.

“One of his many women is trying to track him down. A woman by the name of Katerina Newcomb.” My world stops.

“She has been messaging him on social media a lot too,” I say, now deep in thought.

“We may have a potential stalker on our hands, but that is what I wanted to talk to Tenn about today. See what he has to say before we get back to her. I can serve her a protection order, to make sure she stays away from him if he thinks she is going to be an issue. But I also don’t want to make it a bigger deal than it is.”

“Do you do that often? Push out protection orders?” I ask. From how he speaks so casually about it, it sounds like something he does a lot of.

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