Reckless Hearts: A Billionaire Romance

Title Page

Copyright Page

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Epilogue

About the Author

About the Publisher

I
couldn't seem to go anywhere on campus without hearing his name. Well, it wasn't really his name. Apparently no one knew his real name.

So they called him Mr. X. Ridiculous, if you asked me. But then again, most of the things and people around me I could also categorize as ridiculous.

No one really looked at me as they walked by. I could try to pass it off onto the lovely early fall weather, but I knew that wasn't true.

The breeze rippled through the leaves of the maples lining the quad, their leaves only now beginning to change to vibrant orange and red pastels. I could smell their sweetness if I closed my eyes.

But it wasn't the trees, the ever-so-slight chill to the weather so that all the girls could finally wear their Gucci scarves to go with their Gucci handbags. It was me.

I wasn't one of them.

Sighing, I glanced down. It had rained last night, the grass and the flowers in the ring of garden surrounding the quad glistening with dew still. The day's hot sun had already baked the concrete dry except for a few irregular patches that were slightly darker than the rest.

In one of those, I saw an earthworm wriggling vainly, trying to find its way back to the dirt before the light fried it. The concrete that had saved it from drowning now betrayed it.

"I know how you feel," I said. I leaned over so that I could grab it and toss it into the grass.

"Hey, Allison."

I looked over, noticing Jennifer for the first time. How long had she been standing there?

I liked Jennifer. Her family owned a load of rental buildings in Manhattan. She'd never have to work a day in her life. Except she did. She studied nearly as hard as I did, despite her advantages, and I respected that.

Maybe that was why she respected me. And, what was even more amazing to me, she seemed to like me, too.

"That was nice of you," she said. I gave her a confused look and she nodded towards the patch of grass where I'd thrown the worm.

"Oh, yeah, I suppose. Hey," I said, smiling as I shifted over on my bench to give her room. I had to move my messenger bag between my legs, where the feet of careless passersby couldn't catch the strap and throw my overly expensive textbooks across the concrete.

"Everything okay?" Jennifer asked.

"Yeah," I replied, smoothing my jeans over my thighs. They were good jeans. Broken in for months now, just slightly wearing at the knees, and around the lump of my cell in my pocket.

Pretty much everyone else here would have tossed jeans like these months ago. Maybe that was why I liked them so much. You shouldn't throw out things that fit you so well, served you so well.

I wouldn't have been surprised if the blouse Jennifer wore had cost more than my entire wardrobe.

"Sure sounds like it," Jennifer came back, nudging my arm.

Strawberry blonde hair so much lighter than my own dark mane fell down to her shoulders, framing her lovely face with its pointed, aquiline nose.

"Sorry. I guess it's just this whole Mr. X thing, you know?" I said. My ankles crossed of their own volition and my hands twitched, urging me to wrap my arms around my body and hug tight. I resisted.

Jennifer nodded, sympathizing. She already knew about all this. About how I'd won that big scholarship, the Duvall Grant they called it, to come here to the preppiest, most prestigious private college in the whole state.

"We're not all bad, you know."

"I know, I know. It's just the blue collar in me coming out," I said, offering her another smile.

Sometimes I thought that I must have that blue collar background of mine tattooed around my neck. As though if your family income exceeded the million dollar mark it gave you some sort of sixth sense that let you sense when someone poorer than yourself was nearby.

"What's the big deal with this guy, anyway?" I asked.

"Mr. X, you mean?" Jennifer said. When I nodded, she continued, "Well, this is his first public appearance in, well, ever. I heard the president of the school had to pull some major strings to get him out here. Wanna come with? I think the seating is beginning soon." She checked her watch, which she always kept against the inside of her wrist, as though she didn't already know exactly how long it was until seating for the keynote started.

Even Jennifer wanted to go. It was baffling. How could one man deserve so much fuss?

I snorted. "All he does is run some company. And he has that gimmick where he doesn't like to show his face or let people know his real name. How is that even legal?"

The answer to that was obvious enough to make it a rhetorical question. It was legal because he had enough money to buy a medium-sized African nation. Or perhaps a small European one.

"It's because he wasn't even on the radar five years ago, and now when people want to know how the economy is doing they check the price of UI stock."

I shook my head at that. Even though I hated the type of person “Mr. X” was, my major, Geopolitical Studies, required me to be familiar with the movers and shakers in the world, whether they were politicians or people with enough money to not need to be one.

UI was the stock symbol for Mr. X's company, Utopia Incorporated. It was a strange name choice.

"You've got that look on your face again, Allie," Jennifer said, "Now come on. We have to go now if we want to get decent seats!"

She watched with growing worry as the foot traffic through the quad increased, the murmur of excited voices getting louder as what appeared to be every last warm body on the campus passed by on their way to the keynote.

Even I could tell that something was different with me. Something Jennifer picked up on. I wasn’t normally this way, this grumpy. I guess that the Mr. X thing managed to push all the right buttons.

“Hey, you’re still in line for top of the class this year, aren’t you?” Jennifer said. She always tried cheering me up.

“Yep,” I said. All that hard work was paying off. It was just all that worry and anxiety working itself through me, I figured. That worry that I just wasn’t good enough made the work that much harder.

Jennifer seemed ready to vibrate out of her skin.

“What is it?” I asked, thinking it was still the Mr. X thing.

She bit her lip, gave the quad a quick glance as though someone might be listening in, and shot me a big smile. “I wasn’t going to tell you this, but I can’t hold it back.”

“What?”

“I’m going to throw you a party at the end of the year. When we get the official word about the grade rankings. A nice big one with all the works.” She reached out and took my hands. Her excitement was catching, and my heart started running like a rabbit.

“Oh, Jenn, you shouldn’t,” I said.

“Yes, I should. And you’re going to say yes. Say it right now. Just admit it and maybe you’ll stop that whole sourpuss thing you’ve got going.”

“I...” I wanted to say yes, I did. I was just floored by her offer, and how excited it made her. Sometimes all it takes is a little acknowledgment that yes, you do exist, and yes, people do like you, to get you out from under that dark cloud.

She squeezed my fingers harder, her shaped eyebrows waggling so that even my sour mood started lifting. I smiled back at her.

“Yes, okay. But nothing too extravagant. Okay?” This place and these people still overwhelmed me, even though I’d been here since the semester started.

“Of course,” she said without pausing. I knew it was a lie, but I didn’t want to call her on it.

Jennifer was my real hope that not all rich people were stuck up, that they could actually do some good for the rest of the world rather than only themselves.

Still holding one of my hands, she hauled me to my feet, the breeze catching some of the golden filaments of her hair and tossing them over her cheek. "Come on. What else do you have to do today?"

"Study," I replied. I tugged my tee back down before I could flash the whole crowd my bellybutton even as I snatched my messenger bag up and pulled the strap over my shoulder.

Jennifer laughed at that, pulling me in with her to join in the human current. As we walked under the canopy of trees the sunlight flickered between the leaves and even I had to admit that it was a beautiful campus.

The school didn't have an official uniform, and none was required. On paper, anyway.

The guy on my left exemplified what was expected of the men. A nice polo shirt (the collar
never
popped on pain of death) over khakis and closed-toe shoes. Either that or a full-on suit. There was nothing in between.

Jennifer was a pretty good example for the girls. A blouse paired with some sort of skirt. Pants were frowned upon, which was probably why I wore jeans. Nothing more blue collar than denim, right?

They'd started the school, back in the '30s. Rich people throwing together to make a place to get their children out of the dirt and general atmosphere of the Depression. And it showed in the Art Deco styling of the buildings we passed. The fortress of a library, the administrative building with its arches and dark brick work.

"Come on, admit it. You're curious," Jennifer said.

"No way," I replied, trying not to look her in the eye. Because I was curious. I guess some of what was around me rubbed off on me. Besides, maybe I'd learn something I could use to write an article with or something.

There was also that prospect of a party. I couldn’t forget that. I started wondering who might show up before I could catch myself.

"If I know you, you've already got every assignment already done and ready to hand in. You know, you're already here. You don't have to prove anything to anyone," Jennifer said.

Jennifer was right. I did have all my work done already. And unless I decided to go around and rescue every worm on campus I really did have at least a few hours of free time to kill.

I didn't want to talk about that now. We'd gone back and forth over that since we'd met. "Such a weird name for a business. Utopia Incorporated, I mean. Everyone thinks it means paradise, or some ideal place. No one ever seems to remember that 'utopia' also means no place. As in, it doesn't exist."

"All I know is that both my parents want me to tell them everything about the speech. Do you think he'll take questions?" Jennifer said.

"What? Like, 'Will you marry me?' Or maybe, 'Do you have a girlfriend yet?'" I said, pursing my lips and making kissy noises. Because I could guarantee that pretty much every eligible bachelorette walking towards the amphitheater with me wanted to know the answer to those.

All eligible bachelorettes except, of course, for me. Money and power weren't the way into this young woman's heart. In fact, I could pretty much guarantee that they'd never even get the right directions.

"Shut up," Jennifer said, nudging me again even as she smiled to show that she didn't mean it, "Besides, maybe a boyfriend is exactly what you need."

"More like the last thing I need," I said, getting the reply out perhaps a few heartbeats too quickly.

There had been one guy who'd asked me out about two weeks after I moved into the girl's dormitory (although here it was a dorm in name only, they were really more like private suites or apartments).

Justin Rothsman had been his name. He was nice at first. All flirty and handsome with that blond hair and those blue eyes in a way that had me trembly and butterfly-filled. I'd even wanted to say yes.

Until I'd overheard him say it was all for a bet over who could get the poor girl into bed the fastest.

He'd laughed and said that one look at his Porsche and my panties would be around my ankles.

So I'd found his car later that evening and written THANKS FOR THE CLAP in red lipstick across the windshield. No one knew it was me, of course. I didn't want to get expelled.

I was more a Mustang girl than a Porsche one, anyway.

He hadn't found it very funny when he and his date came out and saw that. I could still remember how sharp the sound of the slap she'd given him was, even though I'd been all the way on the other side of the parking lot.