The Boss (A Billionaire Romance) (9 page)

Chapter 2

They arrived at Del Posto on 10th Avenue, and once again, Clara was amazed by his choice of restaurant.

The place was romantic and busy, and the menu was seriously pricey.

She peered across the table, searching his bold smile for a sign that this was the right time to ask, "This is a great place, Fredrick. You must allow me to pick up the check this time."

"No, no," he shook his head, raising his hand. "I'm a little traditional when it comes to this kind of thing. Humor me, let me pay?"

"It's too expensive in here, have you seen the menu? And you spent a bomb last time we were together."

"I wouldn't book to eat somewhere without researching how good the food was. Unfortunately, good food comes at a price. You deserve the best, beautiful."

I also deserve the truth.

Okay, here goes…

"Are you sure you can afford it, though? I mean, jeez. You should give lessons on making your fire fighter's paycheck stretch so far."

"My what?" He appeared baffled, which confused her. "Oh, I get you. Thing is, I inherited some money from my father five years ago. The interest alone helps with luxuries. It's about all he ever gave me."

"Ah . . . "
Inheritance from the capitalist absent father? Didn't hate you so much after all?
"Oh, you never said, but of course, why should you? Sorry, non of my business."

Fredrick shrugged, but never said anything else, and seemed to avoid looking at her directly by grabbing the menu and staring down at it. "What do you fancy? The lobster is excellent."

"I'm thinking steak." Clara didn't even look at the menu, watching him instead. She should quit prying, but his reaction only doubled her suspicion, "You never said what kind of business robbed you of his attentions. Was it banking, marketing, retail?"

Fredrick groaned and actually cringed, still staring down at his menu.

Then he fired his stare toward Clara and inhaled deeply, "Okay Clara. I don't want to lie to you about anything and since you asked me outright, I guess it's time to confess . . . "

Confess?

Oh shit.

"What is it? You're scaring me?"

And he was.

Was he about to ruin the wonderful beginnings of something special between them?

Did she want to know?

"You . . . won't like the truth, but please try to remember this was my father's choice of business, not mine."

Clara's fear of knowing failed to silence her curiosity, "Go on."

"Well," he gulped, taking her hand and wrapping it in his, "my father owned casinos."

At first, it was as if she didn't understand, like when waking from a dream and only traces of what happened remain.

When the worst possible reality popped into her mind, like a spike in her ribs, she could hardly breathe.

Fredrick’s face felt familiar… and now she knew why.

"Please tell me your father isn't Tony Walters."

"Yes, he was . . . Tony Walters."

She snatched her hand from his as if the toxicity of his father might somehow pollute her through contact with his son.

"The same Tony Walters whose businesses crippled my father, his friends, and thousands of other gamblers in the surrounding areas?"

He didn’t answer.

“You’re Fredrick Walters? The owner of multiple casinos?”

He nodded.

“Fredrick Walters? The boss that causes pain to so many?”

“Clara…”

“You are the boss?”

“Please…”

“The boss…”

“Clara, look…”

“I am having lunch with the boss of the organizations that I hate?”

Fredrick frowned, his eyes a glare of desperation. "Please, try to appreciate my . . ."

She couldn't stomach his excuses.

"Fredrick, you've paid for my food on the earnings of problem gamblers, knowing how abhorrent I would find it? No, I won't listen. You know how important this is to me. Why didn't you tell me sooner? Fuck," she rested her shaky palm on her chest at the wave of nausea. "I feel sick," The sight of the man she had overwhelming feelings for only moments ago now sickened her. "I can't look at you." She stood and grabbed her shawl and purse. "Not now."

"What?"

He stood too, holding out his hand to her.

"No Clara, please don't leave." Everyone stared at the awkward situation unfold. Fredrick lowered his voice, "I'm not my father, Clara."

She gulped, but choked on the thought of dining out on the debt of gamblers.

The emotion rushed up from her guts through her throat, spreading a cold sweat over her forehead and down her back.

"Oh stop, I need to leave. Don't follow me, Fredrick. There's nothing more to say."

Fredrick stared and held her wrist a second, stopping her from leaving.

"Please, listen to me this time. I'll come with you, we can talk." She stared at the point of contact, wondering if she would vomit on his expensive suit. He let go of her wrist, opened his wallet and left a pile of cash on the table. "Come Clara, let's get out of here."

Clara saw the blood of suffering on every bank note and thought she might explode with hurt.

She marched off, the air now so stifling she could hardly breathe until the fresh air hit her face on the outside.

She breathed deeply, hand on chest.

This man had turned her world upside down in no time at all, but this was too big a deal to ignore.

Even for the possibility of love.

Fredrick caught up with her, "Clara, oh I'm sorry. You're hurting and you feel deceived. I could never hurt you."

"And yet, here we are," she croaked with a dry throat, "I'm giving you one minute to speak. This will be the last time I listen to you."

She couldn't bear his face, so stared down at her feet.

"Cards on the table?" He tried to hold her hands, but she shoved them in her pockets. "I inherited his casinos, and although I still own them, that's not because--"

"Stop!"

She raised her palms up to him.

He still earns money from addicts, while I’m trying to help them?

This is impossible.

No, it's over.

"On second thoughts, no. I won't listen to anything you have to say. By the way, this is not just me being stubborn this time." Trying to hail a cab, she added, "It's goodbye, for good. Enjoy the good life you live off the backs of other people's suffering if you must, but don't drag me into it."

A cab pulled up and she climbed into it.

As it rode off, she didn't look back at Fredrick.

Instead, she cried all the way home.

Chapter 3

Fredrick's pulse boomed in his ears.

His damned father had caused him nothing but trouble throughout his life and, even in his death, he influenced people's views about him.

Why can't she give me a break?

I'm not him.

Association to his father had always closed doors to decent people, and now he might lose the one woman he had genuine feelings for, through no fault of his own.

Well, perhaps his stupidity.

Maybe he shouldn't have told her yet.

Maybe honesty wasn't always the best policy, or perhaps it was too little too late?

"No," Fredrick said aloud to the amusement of a few passers-by, before whistling the next cab in line and climbing in, "Follow that cab. Don't lose her."

His cell buzzed in his breast pocket as soon as he caught up with her.

It was Clara.

"Stop following me or I'll call the police. I'm not interested in you or your ill-gotten gains. I thought you were a fire fighter, a decent man. And all the time you were lying to me. Do you know I could lose everything if people found out about us? People don't donate to CEO's of anti-gambling charities when they're sleeping with casino tycoons, funnily enough."

He knew this, which was why he'd remained anonymous as her largest donor, and why he'd pursued her without admitting that connection.

"No, I didn't lie. You know I'm a fire fighter, and for the reason I said. Please, let me talk to you face to face."

"There's nothing to say. I'm warning you Fredrick, turn the cab around before I get home or I will call the police."

"No," Fredrick protested, "I won't give up that easily."

He heard her crying and she said, "Can't believe I was falling for you. I must be insane or desperate. Please, if you care for me at all, leave me alone."

"If you're insane, so am I."

"There's no place for us, don't you see? We value different things and your association threatens my foundation."

He heard the pain in her voice and wondered if he was being cruel by pressing her.

He would hate himself if so.

"We're not the same . . . at least," she sniffed, "not how I thought we were."

The shudder of her voice was too much to bear.

"We're more the same than you can imagine. I only wish you were able to see it."

Her cab pulled up outside her building and when she disembarked, she rushed to pay the driver and get inside before he could reach her.

In spite of her warning, Fredrick couldn't help himself and he reached her just as she turned the key.

She turned and slapped his face, "Get away from me. Go and count your earnings, I imagine they're huge."

"Stop this, Clara. You're acting like I'm the casino tycoon."

Her cutting accusations started to irritate him as much as the threat of losing her worried him.

It wasn't his choice to keep the damned casinos.

It was in his father's instruction in the will.

"For the last time, it was my father."

"Yeah, all you're doing is allowing the engines of commerce to grind on." She opened the door and stepped inside. Over her shoulder she said, "You're not to blame for anything. No, you just like the money, don't you? You're doing no harm. It'd be too hard to let go of all that wealth, just to do the right thing."

"It's not like that," he placed a foot inside, determined to make his point before she locked him out.

"You enjoy the money you make at the cost of vulnerable addicts--who am I to say you shouldn't? I imagine your soul is already blackened by greed, just like your father's was."

Wow, she can be vicious.

"You can't mean that, Clara?" He was swiftly losing the will to battle with her. "I thought we'd gotten to know each other. Is the man you've been so close to really so evil?"

"So did I, but yes. I think you must be and that's . . . " Her eyes betrayed her pain, "why I'm furious with myself for getting you so wrong." She tried to close the door but his foot still blocked the door. "And I'm livid you tricked me into believing you were someone I might . . . " Her lip quivered and her voice cracked, "want to share my life with."

"Oh, Clara. If you could just let me explain."

"I hate anyone who makes a living off the back of other people's misery, that includes you." Her body shook, and his stomach fizzed with frustration. "Now get your foot off my property."

"Think you'll find it's public property."

She was still staying at the apartment hotel, after all.

"Whatever. Fuck off."

It was no use; she wouldn't listen to a word he had to say--again.

He removed his foot and as she slammed the door in his face he whispered,

"Goodbye Clara."

Chapter 4

When Clara slammed the door in his face, the weight of disappointment, of frustration and anger diffused--the same anger that had held her up over the past hour.

Without rage to support her, she slumped to the floor like a weeping rag doll.

Dammit to hell.

How stupid can one woman be?

After only a moment of tears, she thought about her friend who set her up in the first place and her anger returned.

Needing to vent, to give Lisa a piece of her mind, she grabbed her purse, her cell, and called Lisa while chewing the inside of her cheek, waiting for her to pickup.

The answering message came on but she managed to hold on to the list of curse words queuing up on her tongue, and hung up.

"Shit, shit, shit!"

Lisa owned a busy Manhattan restaurant, so she was used to reaching her answering message.

But this wasn't the time for leaving messages.

The pain in her chest, her head, meant she needed to blame someone, and Lisa was an easy target.

Pushing herself up off the floor, she headed for her bathroom, thinking once again that she might be sick.

Seated heavy on her toilet seat, she tried to breath slowly, deeply, to calm herself down.

"Okay, everything's going to be okay."

It isn't okay, it's infuriating, utterly disappointing, and depressing.

Clara realized just how much faith she placed in a man she hardly knew.

Stupid!

Foolish!

Dammit!

Clara snatched another strip from the toilet roll to blow her nose.

Thinking of Lisa she said, "I need to scream at you for setting me up with that lying scumbag. Then I need you to help me unpack this bullshit, so I can forget about it. Forget about him. I hope no one ever finds out about us, or the Benjamin James Against Gambling Foundation is finished."

She dared to leave the bathroom and retrieved her purse from the hallway where she had dumped it, and grabbed her cell.

For a second time, she dialed her friend's number.

"Come on Lisa, quit cooking and start talking."

"Hi Clara," Lisa answered in her usual singsong voice, right before Clara was about to give up and hang up. "What time is it? I thought you were on a date with your horny fire fighter tonight?"

After a sigh, Clara slid to the floor again and began her rant.

"Turns out the guy you set me up with against my better judgment is also the son of one of the biggest gambling tycoons, and the owner of Walters Group, Inc."

After a short pause where Lisa struggled with the facts, she said, "Fuck. Really?"

"Really."

"Didn't you tell me once that they had casinos are everywhere and they hire out slots in airports and shopping centers?"

"Yes, I did." Nausea rebuilt its ladder to her throat at the enormity of how awful this one simple fact was. "You may just have screwed my entire life's work by setting me up with him."

Lisa didn't bite, perhaps because of her part to play in this shit storm.

More likely because she figured Clara's backlash was emotion driven, not genuine, and so biting would be like kicking an injured pup.

"Hey, okay, okay. I'm Lucifer's sister. Now, take a breath, lady."

Clara did as her friend said, silent now the crappy truth was out there, her mind still buzzing.

"Right, the story so far sucks." Lisa asked, "What did he say about all this? I take it you confronted him?"

"What is there to say?" Clara rolled her shoulders, her attempt at relieving the pain down her back. "I mean, come on?"

"He could explain why he hid his connection to the company, and why he's a fire-fighting billionaire. Seems illogical to me that he hid in plain sight without you, or someone else in your charity, recognizing him as the son of your archenemy?"

"Why would I? Everyone knew about his father, but I couldn't have told you what he looked like. Why would we recognize his son? I deal with the fallout of their business, not them."

"Surely there are pictures of them online? I don’t know, something?"

"Why would I waste my time searching online to look at scum?" Clara had to ask, "I take it there was no mention of this connection in his dating profile?"

"Of course not. Don't be ridiculous . . . like I'd set you up with him."

Clara winced, taking less pleasure in attacking her friend than she expected, but finding it difficult to stop herself.

Biting her lip helped.

"So, what did he say in his defense?" Lisa prodded. "Clara?"

She thought, but there was no answer to give.

Why would she give that creep the time of day, let alone listen to his excuses and lies?

She continued to bite her lip.

"You did give him a chance to explain himself this time, I take it? I mean, you said you learned a valuable lesson last time--that your stubbornness gets you nowhere, right?"

"Nowhere?" Clara snapped, finally. "Stubbornness would have prevented me associating with a major player in the gambling industry, which may well have saved the foundation. Honestly Lisa, I can't imagine how it will survive the connection."

"No way. Your donors know how passionate you are about . . . "

"Sorry, but my donors see corruption everywhere. It comes as standard in most industries where money changes hands. My stubbornness came from an instinct to protect myself, and my instincts clearly are far better than yours."

Lisa groaned, "For heavens sake. When will you learn? Your instincts pulled you towards him, and he offered you something fabulous. I don't believe he's a bad guy because his dad contributed to his DNA. What bad guys run into burning buildings for a living? He could even be a volunteer if he doesn't need the money. If so, he volunteers to risk his life for others. That's the definition of a good guy in my book."

Clara's rage fed her nausea as she listened to Lisa's attempt to defend the person responsible for the time-bomb about to blast her foundation into the stars.

"Let me explain something to you, Lisa. No matter what Fredrick does in his free time, he is still living off corrupt earnings and he knew how abhorrent his livelihood is to me. And I'll tell you this; it wouldn't surprise me if our entire relationship was planned purely to put my foundation out of business. It's exactly the kind of thing his father would do. Huh, if he's looking down on him right now, I bet he's proud of his son."

"His father is the shark, not him. I think you're being paranoid."

"They aren't Fredrick's casinos because of anything he did. They must be his through inheritance, and if his father was as bad as you've told me, maybe he got screwed in the will? Try to remember what Fredrick told you. I'm sure there's an explanation for all this."

"Like anything he can say will make this not the worst news ever."

A film of cold sweat covered Clara's body again, so she unbuttoned her blouse and fanned herself with her hand.

When she imagined the conversation, she imagined Fredrick's mouth zipped tight.

"Well, I bet he has a reasonable explanation. I mean, he's the son, not the actual tycoon, and he sounded like a keeper the way you gushed about him to me. No matter how his father built his empire, Fredrick saved your life."

"Didn't you warn me against hero worship?" Clara wanted to hang-up, angry at her friend for continuing to defend him. How could she be so blind? "Lisa, shouldn't you be on my side?" Her chest tightened, "I hoped you, more than anyone, would understand what this means to me."

"This isn't about taking sides. It's about your inability to see the shit for the trees. Calm down." Lisa said, "You're hyperventilating. Breathe."

She was right.

Her breathing had become erratic.

Clara tried to slow it down, to breathe air deeply, slowly, to exhale completely, steadily.

But it wasn't working.

She put Lisa on speakerphone so she didn't need to hold the handset in her sweaty hands.

"I'm always in your corner," Lisa assured her. "All I'm saying is he's earned your consideration. He's earned a moment of your time and your ears to listen. Think for a moment: Would you like to be judged by the actions of your father? Do you think you'd be trusted with all those donations if people did that--Anon trusts you with millions of dollars a year for fuck-sake."

"Don't compare that liar's father to mine!" Clara's stomach flipped at the idea of Anon finding out who she'd been sleeping with, finally pushing her to dash to the bathroom and spew down the toilet, "Ugh." She gasped, her phone discarded a few feet away in the hallway, "Fuck!"

"Are you actually being sick?" asked Lisa, barely audible to Clara.

"Yes," she shouted, "you know how my stomach gets."

Lisa shouted, "Which is why you need to calm the fuck down."

"Don't change the subject." Clara staggered to retrieve the cell and back to the bathroom. "Dad was driven by a sickness, not by greed. You're out of order comparing him with a gambling tycoon."

"I'm not comparing those two, I'm comparing the situation you found yourself in and the one Fredrick finds himself in. And I know your father was sick but many don't view addiction so compassionately. Most people see them as people who indulge their whims, and who end up taking what isn't theirs so they can continue to indulge them. You see Fredrick as the Devil because of his association to his father; prejudice is prejudgment in ignorance, remember? You've preached it in your speeches all over the world, yet you're treating him as ignorant people once treated your father."

Clara leaned back against the bathtub, eyes wide and watery.

"He's taking his dates to posh restaurants using gambling money, so as far as I'm concerned he's enjoying the spoils of his father's evil. Ergo, he's evil. Look, if you're going to preach to me, I'm hanging up. I feel lousy enough without you adding to my misery. I shouldn't have called. This is my mess, I'll deal with it."

"You should always call me when you feel lousy, I'm your best friend, and I love you. I'm not preaching because you disagree with me, I'm just trying to help you see past your own stubbornness. As for this being a mess? Really? He's just a guy, Clara."

"Like I said, my donors won't trust me when they find out I consorted with the enemy. It's about more than some guy."

"How will they find out? You met him a few times, while unaware of his association. Like I said, if your donors were so judgmental, would they be donating to an anti-gambling foundation? Wouldn't they write checks to safer organizations like Save The Children or Red Cross?"

Clara decided their conversation was over.

"You can't understand my side in all this. It wasn't your father. It wasn't your family going through hell because of men like him. He's the reason I need those donations, yet because of him I might lose them. His casinos--because they're his now, whatever you say--allow addiction to cripple thousands of people. If people find out I dated him, it doesn't bear thinking about. I mean, what was I thinking, listening to you in the first place?" Clara paused, her mind whirling with regret, "What if I'm right?" She considered it, but now she actually feared the possibility. "What if he is trying to undermine my reputation? What if he was trying to close down my foundation and I walked straight into his plot."

Lisa sighed. "What I think is, you're getting all this way out of proportion, honey."

"No, it makes sense now."
So much sense it's alarming.
"Because if I can't help the gamblers fight their addiction, they spend more money in his casinos."

Clara stood on shaky legs and splashed her face with water.

"Yesterday he was a good guy, a gorgeous compassionate fire fighter who saved your life. Today he's the Devil incarnate because of something he couldn't do a damn thing about. I wish you would allow him to explain rather than letting your imagination run away with you like this."

Her stomach rolled.

Stooping over the toilet, she vomited again.

"Clara? Are you okay? Please try not to get so worked up over this. Listen, I'm finished in an hour. I'll come over. We can talk."

Clara spat and used tissue from the roll to wipe her mouth.

"I will be fine, but I need to be alone a while . . . work this out in my head, yeah? Talk soon."

She hung up, feeling anything but okay.