Page 61 of The Damaged Billionaire

“What are you doing here?” the devil child from next door asks as I walk downstairs after I’ve showered and changed. Willow’s house is small but cute, and I feel at home already.

“The question is, what are you doing here?” I mumble, fixing my shirt. This punk has had it out for me since day one and I have no plans to go easy on him. Looking around, I spot Willow’s sister outside playing with Bob.

“I’m having my breakfast. Willow always makes me breakfast every weekend. It’s our thing,” he hisses, giving me a death glare over the top of his spoon full of Cheerios. I match his stare, thinning my eyes at him, not giving him an inch.

“Well, I stayed overnight last night. That is our thing,” I say back to him, sounding even more juvenile. I stare at him for a beat, wondering how to get rid of this kid who is a giant pain in my ass.

“Hey, coffee is on the counter. TV is on. It’s nearly time,” Willow says as she breezes into the kitchen, grabbing her cell and some paperwork from the kitchen counter before striding out again. I run my hands down my face, hoping the interview goes well and praying it is a success in the eyes of the public. To be honest, it could go either way. They may edit it to showcase me in a light that is unbecoming, positioning me into the careless playboy asshole persona the local media have tried to establish this past week. A few months ago, they wouldn't have been wrong. But my life has changed. Significantly. I am not the same person, nor do I want to be. Or it could be an intelligent conversation about business and my expansion plans, all of which have now been cemented in Singapore, and Geoffery Fucking Newcomb will choke on his morning coffee.

The thought of him brings back my other reality. His daughter and her lack of willingness to have a paternity test… the whole thing is smelling off. She is lying; I just have no proof and no way to show it. I can’t force her to undertake the tests required to prove paternity or even prove she is with child. So she could very well drag this out for the next seven months until a baby appears. Which I don’t want. I want answers now. I want this all cleared up, and I want to forget about it.

“Are you deaf as well as dumb?” Josh says to me, and I throw him an evil look. He has now finished his breakfast and walks his dishes to the sink. “Here’s your coffee.” He pushes the cup that Willow prepared for me along the counter, but not before I see him lick his finger and dip it into the hot brew, stirring the coffee like he is using a spoon. “Still warm, just for you.” He plasters on a fake smile, encouraging me to take it. But I balk. Who knows where his fingers have been? Probably up his nose, for all I know.

“Hey, rock star,” Willow’s sister, Saide, says as she comes in from the back garden.

“Saide, how are you?” I ask her, trying to be polite as Josh stands behind her, giving me the middle finger and sticking out his tongue. I could buy his house next door and force him to move.

“Better now that my sister is happy. Glad you got your shit together, hotshot. Let’s go and see if you keep it together in this interview, shall we?” she says, raising her eyebrows, almost in a challenge. I should have expected it. Of course she would be a little protective of her sister. It isn’t a good situation for anyone to be in. Saide walks past me to go into the living room, Josh following behind her, but not before he checks me with his shoulder on the way past. He is shorter than me by far, so his shoulder digs into my torso, making me lurch a little, hitting me right in the stomach. I think I will buy up all the houses on the entire street, just to be sure.

For a short kid, he has a strong shoulder, and I rub my side, wondering what his problem is. Ignoring the snot-infested coffee, I follow behind them closely, seeing Saide perch herself on the armchair, Willow on the sofa right in front of the TV, typing on her cell. Josh walks in and immediately sits next to her, leaving the only space for me on the other side of him.

“Willow, you are coming to my school presentation this week, aren’t you?” Josh asks in a sweet voice that I have never heard before. I raise my eyebrows at him, as he looks at me with a sly smile.

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss it!” she says, and his smile at me gets even wider.

“Actually, why don’t I bring Tennyson too. I am sure he would love to see you get your award,” she says, her head still buried in her phone, paying no attention to either of us. Josh’s smile is wiped from his face, and a smile immediately comes to my lips.

“That would be great, Cupcake. What is the award for? Passing elementary school?” I tease him, knowing full well he is already in middle school. My words grate on him as he gives me a scowl.

“He received a science scholarship into high school,” Willow answers, and my eyebrows shoot to my hairline. The kid is obviously a genius, and I had no idea.

“I know how to blow stuff up, Ninja,” he whispers in a threat, and I swallow. Great, now I have to bomb proof my entire life. Our eyes remain locked for a beat before the intro of Business News comes on, and I take a seat as Willow turns up the volume.

We are all quiet for the entire show, listening to every single word that is said. I crack my knuckles and grind my teeth throughout. I am tense, but I need not be worried. It is perfect. I look good, I sound confident, and the entire thing is focused on business without any statement about my personal life, except for a small mention of the current situation in the outro once the credits are already rolling.

“That was perfect,” Willow says quietly in awe. I look over at her, and she’s already looking at me, almost stunned. Her eyes are wide, relief on her face.

“No, Willow. You are perfect.” Without a doubt, she is the one making this happen. Our eyes connect over the top of Josh’s head, and we look at each other for a beat, before both our phones start going crazy.

CHAPTER THIRTY SIX - TENNYSON

My brothers and I sit around the large timber dining table. The polish is so thick on it, our paperwork slips at every opportunity.

“So with the expansion of the construction business in Singapore, we are expecting to see a threefold increase in our finances over the coming three to five years,” I state, giving all my brothers and my mother an overview of the new contract. We do this every quarter. While the businesses are ours, our mother has a silent role in our family trust, and as such, she needs to be informed of the paperwork, the finances, and our tax position. In return, we continue to pay for her lifestyle. I am sure she would rather be shopping or lunching with her friends, but it is what Dad set up for us to do in his passing, and like the four idiots we are, we continue to do what our father tells us to do. I look at my watch, mindful that I need to be across town at Josh’s school ceremony this afternoon. I am not sure which meeting is better. Sitting here with my mother or sitting at a school with the kid who I think may be a borderline psycho.

“I heard all about this on Business News. The entire interview was all about you. No mention of your brothers or me,” she says, obviously unhappy that she didn’t get airtime. Our reputation is very important to our mother; it always has been.

“My publicity manager set up the interview for me, for Rothschild Construction. Why would we mention you?” I ask her, my eyes squinting at her. I am pushing her just as much as she is pushing me. The anger between us is getting hotter by the day. My brothers all look at each other, Harrison watching us both like a hawk.

“You only talked about Singapore. I have no idea why Asia is a place you want to work in. It is so far away. So dirty.” She scoffs like I am ridiculous for even thinking about expansion in Asia.

“That’s what you thought about Helen, wasn't it, Mom?” My brothers’ heads snap in my direction, looking at me with their eyebrows raised. I usually don’t converse this much at these meetings. I also haven’t brought up Nanny Helen lately with anyone but Willow, so the subject matter is probably surprising. But my life has changed now, and my feelings are surfacing. After ignoring them for the better part of nearly two decades, they simmer on the surface.

“What does that poor excuse for a nanny have to do with it? Are you just trying to throw barbed words at me, Tennyson?” She stares right at me. She is on edge, I can feel it.

“Umm… why don’t we get back to business…” Eddie butts in, but Mom and I can’t break from our conversation. Our eyes are glued to each other, flames flicking from both of us.

“Why is Helen a barbed word for you, Mom? She raised me better than you did.” I push and see her face contort in anger.

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