Page 58 of The Billionaire and the Maid

“What the fuck are you talking about? Will someone please tell me what the fuck is going on?” I growl.

“Maybe you can fuck around with your other women, but Ella is different. She deserves respect. I know you two had some stupid agreement, but that doesn’t mean she’s without feelings. Maybe you should have thought about that before you went telling all your confidants about your escapades.” He glares at me. “You know. At first, I thought you were just a stupid, rich playboy. Then, I thought maybe you had a brain and a heart in there somewhere”—he motions to my body—“but now, I see you for who you really are. Just some lowlife, spoiled kid who wants to have his cake and eat it too. Go fuck yourself, Marino.” Gus turns and walks off before I can even muster a response. What in the living hell was he going on about?

Shaking my head, I make my way through a group of people all wanting my attention. I manage to say polite quick hellos and then I’m back at the car in the front.

I get in and the driver turns to me. “Same place?”

I nod and he takes off as I stare into the cold night sky. It hasn’t snowed much since the big storm early in the season, but the chill in the air this evening tells me more snow is coming our way. The driver stops in front of Greta’s house.

“Wait here for a minute,” I say, handing him another fifty. I walk up to her apartment over the garage, but the lights are off and she doesn’t come to the door when I knock.

“Shit,” I curse under my breath as I turn and head back to the car.

“Where to now?” the guy asks.

“The café on Main Street,” I say. There’s a chance she might be there. But when I roll up, Elisha has already closed, and the dark café tells me that this is not where she is. We try Max’s and then roam the streets. I eventually have him take me to my place out of total desperation. But she’s not there either. It’s like Ella’s disappeared into thin air.

I debate whether I should stay here or go back to my parents’ home. A text decides for me.

Dad: Where are you? Two board members have asked about you and I haven’t seen you in over an hour. That girlfriend of yours better not be keeping you from business. Business first. Women second.

I want to reach through the phone and punch him. But I also don’t want to miss a chance to win over some board members. I need their votes in a week. I need them to support my idea. Ella is more than what my father thinks she is to me, but for once in his miserable life, he’s right. I need to put the business first. Just for tonight or everything I’ve worked for will be for naught.

Begrudgingly, I ask the driver to take me back. I’ll resume my search for Ella as soon as the ball is over. She couldn’t have gone far. And even if she did, I would go to the ends of the earth to find her.

I decide to text her.

Me: Ella. Where are you? I tried calling you. I don’t understand why you left. Please call me.

When I arrive back at the ball, the guests are thoroughly tipsy, and everyone is dancing and having fun. The lights have been lowered and the orchestra plays holiday songs. It should be festive and fun, but it’s not. Everyone is enjoying themselves. Only, that’s the last thing I want to do. As I talk with the board members, I look around at the smiling faces. Couples embracing, even kissing on the dance floor. And suddenly, I feel like an idiot. For all my anger at my father always putting the company first, I just did the same stupid thing. I should be out there looking for Ella. Nothing else should matter to me until I find her. Because nothing elsedoesmatter. Fuck. I’m in love with Ella. And I don’t want all of this if it means I can’t have her by my side.

CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO

Ella

The dim light streaming through the window wakes me. I rub my eyes and roll over, staring up at the vaulted ceiling. Greta’s beach condo is nice. I’ve only been here a few times, but I feel like it’s a familiar place. At least I know where things are here.

My tired brain hasn’t quite woken up enough to recall the awful previous night. I curl deeper under the comforter as if the warmth of her bedding will protect me from my own thoughts.

I had stolen a pair of sweatpants and an old sweatshirt from Greta’s closet. My dress and single shoe are in the dining area. I had to get them off me as fast as possible. I’ll have to get the dress dry-cleaned and returned to Greta, but right now, I don’t want to think about anything to do with the holiday ball. Hell, I don’t even want to think about the holidays. Maybe I should stay here until after New Year’s. Then, I can avoid all the lovey-dovey moments with Gus and David. I don’t want to be around any couples for at least ten years…fine, at least ten weeks or at the very least ten days.

I look out the floor-to-ceiling window that has a door out to the balcony. It’s a cloudy day. The ocean looks gray and angry. It matches my mood.

I’m not hungry but I decide I could use a cup of coffee. I find coffee pods in the cupboard and set about making myself a cup.

I stare at my phone on the kitchen counter. I haven’t turned it back on yet. I sort of don’t want to, not yet anyway.

A knock at the door startles me.

“Ella? Ella, it’s me. Open up,” Gus's voice calls out.

Shit. Why did Greta have to tell him where I was?

I open the door and Gus gives me a sad smile. “Hey,” he says.

“What do you want?” I grumble.

“Wow. Thanks, I’d love to come in,” he replies as he pushes the door open and walks inside.

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