Page 8 of The Damaged Billionaire

“Hey,” I groan into the phone as I drop my head into my hands, wishing I was still asleep.

“Where are you?” he demands, and I can tell by his tone that he is pissed.

“In bed. Why?” I ask innocently, trying to remember what day it is.

“Why?! You are meant to be here with the kids. Get your ass up and to my place now,” he says gruffly before ending the call.

“Love you too, Benny Boy,” I murmur to myself, feeling like shit for an entirely different reason now. Letting down my brothers is the one thing I hate doing. And I seem to be doing it more and more lately. That and hangovers. I can’t remember the last time I woke up without one.

That is a lie. I do. It has been six months, two weeks, one day, and about twenty-three hours. That mystery one-night stand still haunts my soul. I rub my eyes again. Those memories are not worth reliving, especially since I woke up that morning alone. A first for me. I crack my neck and think about the day ahead. The fucking kids. The schoolkids that Ben and his girl Em look after. The school that all us boys now support in one way or another. They are cool kids too. Time at the estate with them is always fun. But right now, I feel like I could sleep for days.

I stand up, grabbing my head in the process. Cool air hits my skin, and I look down at my naked body, wondering what the hell I got up to last night. Although it doesn’t take long to remember, as I notice two ripped condom packets on the carpet. At least I wrapped myself, something I always ensure I do. The shower stops as I reach for my pants, putting them on quickly, ignoring the spinning that starts, and just as I pull on my shirt, the bathroom door opens.

“Oohh, you’re awake?” the feminine voice purrs. It should make me want to strip again and crawl back into bed with her, burying myself deep, but it doesn’t. It has the opposite effect.

“Morning,” is all I say, cringing a little at the abruptness that falls from my croaky morning voice. She is not familiar, even though I am sure I had this woman screaming in pleasure last night. I look up and see Kim or Kerry… maybe Kaylee, as her eyes roam my body. I think she is from out of town.

“I didn’t want to wake you. In fact, no, that is a lie, I did want to wake you, but I thought I might do that with my mouth.” She saunters her naked body toward me in what I am sure is her way of being seductive. She is a pretty girl, just not the woman I want. Every woman since that night has been a placeholder to make me forget… not that it’s working.

“No morning glory for me, sweetheart. I need to go.” I try to soften my tone. I don’t want to be a total asshole, even if I can’t remember her name.

“So soon? But we had so much fun together…” My skin crawls, making me want to scratch it at her tone.

“Thanks for a great night. Let me get your phone,” I say as I walk over to where I think the safe is. It is my standard behavior. As soon as I am alone with a woman, I ask for their phone, and I lock it away in the safe. That way, they can’t take photos of me naked while blackout drunk to sell to the nearest gossip site. I may be a bed-hopping asshole, but I have learned how to play the game a little smarter than I once did. My brothers, I am sure, are all relieved.

“You didn’t really think I would take any photos, did you?” she says as I pass her cell phone over and pocket my own.

“Thanks for the night,” I offer, giving her a peck on the cheek, completely ignoring her statement before I retreat to the door.

“I’m in town until Wednesday. Call me if you want to catch up again!” This time when she speaks, I pick up her slight accent. I think she was from Kentucky. I give her a smile and a nod that hurt my face without making any commitment, before I walk through the door, shutting it firmly behind me.

Because even though I fuck a lot, I never fuck the same girl twice.

CHAPTER SEVEN - WILLOW

The sound of kids squealing in laughter fills the air, and the sun shines down, illuminating them all as they run and play. My nerves are at an all-time high, and my heart thuds in my chest from uncertainty. I have no idea what is going to happen today when I see Tennyson; I just hope I can put on my professional face and get on with the job and not imagine the night we had… even though that is all I have thought about these past few days. I gaze around this estate. While I have been to many beautiful homes in and around DC, I am at what could only be described as perhaps the biggest and most luxurious estate in all of the East Coast.

“Seriously, did you see their bathrooms? I could swim in their tub,” Josh says from next to me. My best friend, even though he is only twelve.

“I didn’t bring you here to swim, so stay clear of the bathrooms,” I murmur as I look around at everyone and everything from behind my sunglasses.

“Why am I here?” he asks, and I look at him as though he is crazy. Just like Betty the kitten, Josh turned up at my back doorstep a few years ago and has been hanging around ever since. He is my neighbor and his mother works a lot of shifts at the local hospital, so I normally watch him whenever I can to help her. Given I work from home and have no personal life to speak of, that is often.

“Someone has to watch you. Besides, I thought you would love it here.” I wave my hand around at the extravagance. There is a petting zoo, face painting, balloon animals, even those ridiculous Segways that kids are driving all over the place.

“At least they have a soccer pitch,” Josh says as he bounces his soccer ball between his feet, onto his knee and back again. While not exactly a soccer pitch, it is the greenest, largest lawn I have ever seen.

“Just be careful with that ball. I don’t want you to break anything or hurt anyone,” I warn him, because he has been playing soccer for most of his life. The ball is something he takes everywhere and his right kick is powerful.

“So, are we on a job?” he whispers like we are doing something sneaky.

“Just visiting a friend.” I offer him nothing, but he is a smart kid. He knows. Mostly because he knows what work I do, ever since I caught him peeking at a file I had in my house when he was over one day about a year ago. The work I do is not for little eyes or ears, but he is much older than his years.

“Yeah, like you hang out with these kinds of people,” he mutters with a roll of his eyes.

“What is that meant to mean?” I ask him, slightly offended.

“You’re cool, Saide is cool. These people are…” he comments about my sister and me as he looks at the adults situated around the gardens.

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