Billionaires, Bad Boys, and Alpha Males (90 page)

He tried to smile.
 
“I do have contact with her.
 
Mostly because my brother is still so
close to her.”

“When do you see your family?”

He sighed.
 
“Holidays, mostly.
 
But we definitely talk
frequently—a little too frequently for my tastes.
 
She calls me probably once a month.”

“Did you ever ask her why she did those
things to you?”

“Are you kidding me?” he chuckled
bitterly.
 
“You definitely haven’t
met my mother, if you’re even asking that question.”

“I don’t think I could stomach meeting
her.”

His eyes locked onto hers and he simply
let her see him.
 
His eyes were sad,
she realized.
 
He was a sad person
in many ways, underneath it all.
 
And she loved him for his sadness and darkness and complexity—and
for his humor too.
 
Red Jameson,
underneath all the layers of glitz and glamor, under the control issues and
anger problems and the fear around trusting women—was a sweet soul.
 

Nicole thought to herself that everything
he’d built up—all of the businesses and celebrity and riches, and his
public persona—were merely protection for the sensitive man that still
existed in the center of it all.
 

“You’re a good man,” she told him, and
stroked his cheek.

He smiled and she could tell her was a little
choked up.
 
“Nobody’s ever told me
that before,” he whispered.

“But it’s true.
 
I’m not just saying that.”

He smiled at her.
 
“Thank you, my angel.
 
Thank you.”

***

The next day, they drove into work
together and he actually walked Nicole to her desk, kissing her in front of the
entire office.
 
Normally, Nicole
would have been too embarrassed, but after the pitying looks most of her
co-workers had bestowed on her when they thought she’d been dumped, it was
sweet revenge.

She worked happily through the morning.

Red had a meeting during lunch hour and
Nicole was sick and tired of always spending the entire day in the Jameson
International building.
 
Instead,
she decided to go to lunch at a Café Metro, nearby.

She was practically skipping on her way
to the cafe.
 
She had a huge smile
on her face the entire time—her cheeks practically hurt from grinning so
often.
 
It felt as though everything
in her life was finally coming together.
 
She and Red were back and stronger than ever, work was rewarding and she
was actually being paid for her effort, Danielle didn’t hate her anymore.
 

Of course, Danielle might hate her again
when Nicole explained that she’d gotten back together with Red.
 
Danielle would spell out all the reasons
why it was a mistake, yada yada yada.
 

Entering Café Metro, Nicole was busy
studying the menu and trying to decide what she might want, when a person also
in line kept getting closer and closer to her.
 
She stepped away to get some space, but
the tall, thin man stepped closer again.

She glared at him with some
annoyance.
 
What was this guy’s
problem?
 
Was he trying to hit on
her or something?

He was nearly bald, and the hair he did
possess was salt and pepper and thin.
 
He wore thick-rimmed glasses and a beige suit with a red tie.
 
He looked like one of those nerdy
economists who would go on all the talk shows and bore you to death lecturing
about the debt crisis.

When she gave him a dirty look, he turned
and smiled brightly at her.
 
“Hello,
Nicole.”

Her blood suddenly ran ice cold.
 
That voice.
 
She knew that voice.
 

He turned fully towards her now.
 
“What, aren’t you even going to say hi?”
he asked.

“You’re that weirdo.
 
Anderson, the one who won’t leave me
alone.”

“That’s me,” he said happily.
 

“Leave me alone or I’ll scream,” she told
him.

“Now, why on earth would you do that?” he
asked, looking puzzled.
 
“I’ve never
threatened you, I’ve never hurt you and I’ve certainly never lied to you.”

“I don’t care.
 
Go away.”

He shook his head.
 
“Nicole, I’m one of the few people
actually trying to help you.”

She laughed derisively at his.
 
“I’m not an idiot.”

“If you’re smart, you’ll listen to me.”

“Well, who are you?” she said.
 
“I don’t trust people who won’t tell me
their real names.
 
How did you get
my number?
 
Do you work for The Rag
or something?”

“Come, let’s sit together for a moment.”

She folded her arms and shook her
head.
 
“No way.”

“We’re in a public place.
 
I’m not going to hurt you, I’m an old
man and you could probably beat me up.”

“Definitely,” she said, without humor.

“Then what are you so afraid of?” he
asked.
 
“The truth?”

She laughed at that.
 
“Hardly.”

“Then come sit for a few minutes.
 
I have something to show you.”
 
He walked without looking back at
her.
 
Confidently, he sat down in
the corner, knowing that she’d follow him.

And she did follow him, because part of
her couldn’t help but want to know what he had to say that was so important,
even as she dreaded it.
 

Nicole sat opposite him.
 

He was carrying a small brown satchel,
which he placed delicately near his feet.
 
She saw that his brown shoes were clean, new, and polished to a bright
and shining surface.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” he
told her.

“Somehow I doubt that.”

“This sort of thing gives me no
pleasure.”

“Then why do you do it?”

He sighed.
 
“I don’t like seeing powerful men take
advantage of naïve, young women.”

She folded her arms again, as if trying
to protect herself from his negative words.
 
“That’s not what’s happening.”

“Isn’t it though?”
 
He cocked his head at her.

“No.”

“Did I lie to you about his being engaged
twice previously?”

Nicole licked her lips.
 
For the first time since he’d begun
talking to her, she was feeling uncertain.
 
It was true.
 
The things he’d
said about Red Jameson had turned out to be accurate.
 
“Just because you told the truth once,
doesn’t mean you won’t lie to me now.”

Anderson grinned.
 
“Smart girl.”

“Smarter than you think.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, and she
thought she sensed some anxiety on his part now.
 
“The smarter you are, the better the
chance that I can get through to you.”

“Say what it is you have to say, or I’m
leaving.”

He sighed.
 
“I really hate this part.”
 

“No you don’t.”

Anderson smiled again, wider this
time.
 
“Maybe not as much as I
pretend.
 
Nonetheless, I’m going to
put my cards on the table, Nicole.
 
Red Jameson is playing you for a fool.
 
This is all part of a marketing campaign
that he and his staff concocted months ago.”

Nicole’s insides shriveled and twisted at
his words.
 
Instinctively, she
thought he was lying.
 
“I don’t
believe you.”

“Oh, but I have proof.”
 
He dipped down into his little satchel
and produced a few pieces of paper, handed them to her across the table.

Her nose wrinkled in distaste.
 
She didn’t even want to touch anything
this man had handled, but she needed to see his so-called evidence.
 

The papers contained what looked like
email printouts.
 
The email
addresses were clearly from the Jameson International email server.
 
Red’s email address was in there, as was
Talia Ferring, from the marketing department.

Talia—wasn’t that the woman who had
called Nicole a hobo that one day outside of Red’s office? Nicole thought.
 
Quickly, Nicole scanned the email chain,
and her eyes widened with shock at what she was reading.

Red’s first email was like a knife
through her heart.
 
It said:

T,

We
need to do something different with my image.
 
I’m tired of always being discussed in
the media as if I’m some modern Don Juan, running around trying to get rich and
famous women out of their Oscar de la Renta gowns and into my bed.
 
And beyond that, I want to take the
Jameson brand itself in a new direction.
 
But I need help.
 
I need you to
come up with something new for me.
 
I’m tired of doing the same old photo shoots and the same old interviews
where I smoke cigars and drink scotch and take these writers out in my car and
drive fast through the streets of New York.

Ideas?
 

-Red

The response from Talia was simple.

Maybe
you should go out and find the most average girl in all of the country and
start dating her? The public and the paparazzi would love it.

-T

Red’s response was positively jubilant.

That’s
an incredible idea, Talia.
 
You’re a
genius.
 
It reminds me of Rocky,
when Apollo Creed randomly picks the Italian Stallion as his next fight because
he wants to give an everyman a chance to win the title on July 4
^th
.
 
Next steps for this to become a reality?

Talia responded yet again.

Not
sure.
 
We need to select some
candidates for you.
 
Maybe we’ll use
a casting service.

Nicole couldn’t bear to read
further.
 
She folded the papers in
half.
 
“I’m keeping these,” she
said, her voice hardly audible.

Anderson studied her expression.
 
He was no longer smiling.
 
“So you see, maybe I’m a better friend
to you than you give me credit for.”

“No.
 
You’re still an asshole.”
 
She stood up and started to walk away.

“Everything in there is true,” he called
out, but she just kept walking.

***

After reading those emails, Nicole wasn’t
sure what to do.
 
She thought of a
million different things—taking her engagement ring off and handing it to
a receptionist to give back to Red. Or better yet, throwing the ring down a
sewer grate, quitting her job without a word, and moving home.
 

But then it occurred to her that if she
did any of those things, she’d have learned nothing from the last two months of
her life.
 
If Red was using her,
then she needed to confront him about it like an adult, not run away like a
child.

She started back to the office, walking
with her head held high.
 
Just then,
she heard voices.
 
“There she is!”
someone shouted.

Next thing Nicole knew, there were three
or four guys taking pictures of her and asking her an incessant stream of
questions as they snapped their pictures.

“Nicole, how do you feel knowing that
you’re a pawn?”

“Nicole, look over here.”

“Were you in on it?”

“Did Red Jameson make you an offer you
couldn’t refuse?”

“People are saying that you knew all
along Red Jameson was using your relationship as a publicity stunt, Nicole.”

She didn’t answer any of their
questions.
 
She just kept
walking.
 
Confused, she called
Danielle, who answered the phone immediately.
 
“Someone just told me about it,”
Danielle said in greeting.