Page 41 of The Billionaire and the Maid

“I could give you a big boring speech, but I won’t. Instead, enjoy yourself and each other. Every day we have here on earth is a blessing. Salute!” He raises his glass, and everyone offers him praises and hollers their birthday wishes as a giant candle is lit on the cake and then we all sing happy birthday. He blows out his candle and cuts a piece before turning the knife back over to a server who begins making quick work of slicing pieces for everyone.

I watch as Nonno walks over to us, bypassing my parents who give each other a look. I can’t tell if they are impressed by my fake girlfriend’s ability to draw my grandfather’s attention or if they are annoyed by it, but either way, I find it amusing.

“So good to see you, Ella,” Nonno says warmly as he steps up and does the double-cheek-kiss thing that he never stopped doing when he left Italy years ago.

Ella blushes. “Happy birthday, Mr. Marino,” she says. “I may have a little surprise for you at the stables.”

My eyebrows rise as I look at her. She didn’t tell me about a surprise.

“Oh?” Nonno replies with a wink. “We shall have to go over there tomorrow and see it, then.”

“I have work tomorrow, but I could meet you there the next day,” Ella replies, smiling up at him.

“Then, it’s a date,” he declares and then looks at me. “You don’t mind if I steal your girlfriend for an afternoon, do you?”

Inside, there’s a small part of me that screams,stay the fuck away, but that irrational part is quickly tapped down. “Of course not, Nonno.”

He pats my cheek just as he has done since I was little. “You’re going to make a fine leader, Chase. I look forward to watching you take Marino Shoes to the next level.”

“I’ll do my best, Nonno.”

“I know you will. Now, you two go get some cake before it all gets eaten. I picked the flavor myself. Can you believe your mother gave me such power?” he jests with another wink.

“What’s that about power?” my mother’s voice calls out as she walks over to us just as a server takes our empty drinks.

“I was just letting them know that I got to pick the cake flavor and I do think it is quite delicious,” he says. “I’m off to rub my golf win at Freddy. He’s still bitter,” he adds with a laugh as he turns to his friends.

“You really should try the cake. I was hesitant to let your grandfather pick it, but this bakery makes the best cake flavors, so you really can’t go wrong,” Mom says.

“Elisha’s?” I ask.

“Of course. And it’s so convenient. Her assistant dropped it off this morning.”

“I’ll have to give her a hard time. Elisha’s a friend of mine, but she didn’t mention she was baking you a cake,” Ella says with a frown.

“Oh, you know her? And I wouldn’t feel too bad about that, I make our service providers sign NDAs. You just never know when someone will go to the media,” Mom says.

“Oh. I see,” Ella replies. I can tell she’s hurt that Elisha hasn’t said anything. I would have told her if I knew. My parents are so secretive about everything, and I feel partly to blame for that.

“Ella, nice to see you again,” my father says as he walks up to join my mother. They are often together at these events as if they have to prove they are a happy couple even though I know for a fact their marriage is far from perfect.

“Nice to see you, too,” she says, giving him her best smile, the one I’ve noticed she gives to people when she doesn’t know what else to do. It’s like a defense mechanism. I can’t help but wonder if she found that skill from being Nancy Foster’s stepdaughter.

“I didn’t realize you were Nancy’s stepdaughter,” my mother adds as though she’s read my mind.

“Oh, uh, yes,” Ella says, as she nervously clutches her hands in front of her and then promptly releases them.

Great. Nancy must have spoken to my mom.

“You’re Patrick’s daughter?” my father asks, and I can tell by his tone he suddenly has an interest in my girlfriend. I wonder what that’s about.

“Yes. He was my father,” she answers. I can tell she’s uncomfortable speaking about her family.

Just then, Greta walks in and gives me the perfect excuse to leave my parents with my date.

“Oh, it’s your good friend Greta. We should say hello,” I say as I take her by the hand.

“Well, you two will have to join us for brunch again this weekend. I’d love to hear more about you, Ella,” my mom says as she looks from Ella to me.

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