The Billionaire Dating Game: A Romance Novel (31 page)

“Do you know who that was?”

“Could be the duchess of Burgundy for all I care—”

“That was the head of Vivanelle advertising. Our main advertiser—”

“I said,
I don’t care!
”

Clarence’s mouth snapped shut.

“I need to talk to you,” I said carefully.

“Where were you last night?” he asked. “I told you to come straight here. There was an empty column we had to fill with an astrology reprint. I can’t tell you how many people are going to complain that their horoscope was the same as last month—”

“I was in the hospital,” I said, interrupting his rant. “Ask me what I was doing there.”

Clarence leaned back in his chair, both hands flat on his desk.

“Are you sick? You don’t look sick.”

“My sister’s kid has cancer,” I said. I meant to say it firmly, but my mouth choked on the last word.

“I’m sorry,” Clarence said, in a clipped tone. “Condolences. I’ll tell HR to change your absence to sick leave for yesterday.”

“I need to take a few days off to help my sister.”

“You can’t—”

“And I need an advance on my salary.”

“An advance?!” Clarence burst out with a single laugh. “Lisa, I can’t—”

“An advance of forty thousand dollars.”

Clarence swallowed, then clasped his hands together on his desk. He stared down at his fingers for a moment. I waited to see what he would say.

“You can’t be serious,” he said finally. “Lisa, you just can’t be serious.”

“I am.”

“Don’t you have insurance?”

“It doesn’t pay for what we need.”

Clarence was shaking his head already, and my whole body was trembling with the injustice of it all.

“It’s impossible, Lisa,” he said. “It’s not—”

“Clarence.”

I leaned forward over his desk so that we were face to face.

“I spent the last five years working my ass off for this stupid magazine.”

“Lisa—”

“I worked unpaid overtime every day. I answered emails every weekend. I have not taken a vacation for three years because I’ve been working for this magazine. Every emergency you came up with, I fixed. I fixed everything. I did
everything
you asked me to do whenever you needed help. And now I’m asking you. Because I need help.”

I felt wetness on my cheeks and realized that tears were leaking from my eyes.

“Tell me you can do this for me, Clarence.”

I paused. All of my breath was gone. My hands were trembling, even pressed against Clarence’s desk. A tension strung through my nerves, as though a single pluck would shatter me with vibration.

“Lisa, I can’t.”

“You mean you won’t.”

“I can give you a months’ advance—”

“It’s not enough.”

“That’s all I can—”

“It’s not enough!”
I slammed my hand down on his desk. His phone cracked under my palm, the screen spiderwebbed with white splintered plastic.

“Lisa, stop it!” He stood up, his brows knitting together. “Stop it.”

I knew that face. It was the face he made before dismissing me. Before telling me to get out of his office. Rage boiled through me as he continued to talk, that smarmy condescending tone seething through my ears.

“I know you’re going through some tough times, but I can’t help you with this right now.”

“Fine,” I said. “I quit.”

Clarence’s face went slack with shock.

“You—you—”

“I quit,” I repeated.

If it had been any other day, I would have been thrilled to see the stupid blank expression on his face. I would have exulted and walked out the door with my head held high. But not today. Today, I just felt defeated. One of my options—what I’d thought was the best option—was closed to me. I turned to leave.

“I don’t think that’s wise,” Clarence said. “I think you’re making a hasty decision here. An emotional decision. I think—”

I turned around in his doorway.

“Clarence, when I start giving a shit about what you think, I’ll give you a call.”

As I left, I saw Jessica standing in her cubicle. A smile spread across her perfectly made-up face.

“Lisa, you’re back!”

“Not exactly,” I said, holding up my hand. “I just quit.”

“
Quit?!
”

“I’ll talk to you later, Jess.”

“Lisa!” Clarence’s voice carried out into the hallway as I marched toward the exit. “You can’t do this, Lisa—”

But I could, and I was going to. A paycheck wasn’t going to help me now. I had to go for broke.

Back at the penthouse, I unpacked my half-packed bag. There was nobody else in the apartment. I wondered where they had gone. I didn’t want to miss a contest. This was my last shot at being able to pay for Arlen’s treatment. I would make it happen. No matter what I had to do, I would make it happen.

I was dialing Piers’ number just as the elevator doors opened and he walked into the living room. The camera crew was trailing behind him.

“Lisa, you’re here!” he said. “Good. We can do your goodbye interview.”

“I can’t leave,” I said.

He stopped, looking confused.

“What do you mean?” he said.

“I quit my job so I could stay for the final round. I realized that I need to stay here, Piers,” I said, my words rushing out. I didn’t know how to tell him in front of the cameras. “I can’t give up now that I’m so close to the end. I have to stick it out. I have to win!”

Piers had a strange expression on his face.

“Sit down,” he said, sinking down onto the couch. The camera guys circled around us. “You—you quit your job?”

“They didn’t want me to stay in the competition,” I said. “So I quit instead.”

“But—”

“Piers, I know I said I didn’t want to stay in the contest, but I do! I really, really want to stay. I need to stay.”

Piers wet his lips. He looked uncertain. I couldn’t tell him the real reason I needed to stay with all of the cameras around, though. I would have to tell him later. My eyes searched his, begging him to understand what I was doing.

“Lisa,” he said finally. “You can’t stay.”

“I can, though!” I said, insistently. “I quit my job and everything.”

“No, I mean you can’t stay. You’ve lost.”

“Lost?”

For a moment, I wasn’t sure what he meant. The word went spiraling through my brain, bouncing around and coming right out of my mouth. Lost? Of course I hadn’t lost. I wasn’t leaving. I was staying in for the final round. But as I looked into his eyes, the words started to sink in.

“The photoshoot contest,” he said, his voice speaking carefully. Calmly. “We just taped the judging.”

The judging. That’s where everyone was. Realization shocked me into wordlessness. Piers put his hand on my knee, but I barely felt his touch.

“You lost that contest,” he said, his voice growing soft as the roar in my ears picked up. “Lisa, you’ve been eliminated.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

Lost.

Lost. Eliminated.

“I can’t lose,” I sputtered. “Piers. I can’t—”

“The judging is already over,” he said, his voice turning firm even through his face was sympathetic. His voice turning into that fake persona of Piers that I hated more than ever now. I needed him to be real, and he was so far away I couldn’t even see him in the room.

“But I need to win. I can’t be kicked off now. I need—”

He shrugged helplessly.

I turned to the cameras. The steady red light, the shiny glass lens. Everything seemed too overwhelming. I couldn’t think.

“Tell them to get out,” I said. “I can’t—”

“Lisa—”

“Please, Piers.” There were tears in my eyes. “Please. There’s got to be some way for me to stay in.”

He looked uncertainly at me. His confusion was apparent, and I could understand why. The last time we’d been together, I’d told him I was leaving for good. And now here I was, my hat in my hand, begging him for another chance.

“Lisa, I’m sorry.”

Everybody was sorry. Everybody around me was sorry, and nobody would help. I struggled to breathe.

“I can’t—I can’t—”

“Let’s do the elimination interview, okay?” he said gently. “Let’s finish that out first. Once you’re done—”

“Piers, tell the cameras to leave. I need to talk to you.”

He shook his head, and I saw something in his green-blue eyes that I didn’t quite understand.

“The producers are watching, Lisa,” he said, each word careful. “We
have
to do the elimination interview.”

So he wasn’t going to be able to help me. Nobody would help. He was being watched by eyes above him, and he couldn’t get out of line. My gaze darted up to the cameras in the ceiling. Were they watching even now?

I swallowed the protests in my throat. I was out. That was the end of it.

“Elimination interview?” I asked.

“It’s only a few questions.”

“Sure.” My voice was a whisper.

“Okay,” he said, getting back into his fake persona. He sat stiffly on the couch next to me. I wanted to reach out, wanted him to give me comfort. But if I did that, it would risk his job. So I sat there, alone and miserable, with the man I loved sitting a foot away. It could have been a mile.

“So, Lisa, how do you feel after being eliminated?”

I shook my head. My heart was clenching in my chest, but for an entirely different reason.

“I don’t—I still don’t understand it.”

“The photoshoot was a difficult contest.”

“No. I mean I don’t understand
this
. All of this. Cameras and contests. I don’t understand how this is supposed to help a billionaire find someone to date.”  All of this was a stupid ruse. A way to get TV ratings, nothing else. It didn’t help Dylan. Didn’t help the contestants. Didn’t help anyone but the TV producers.

“You came on this show to do these contests—”

“You can’t choose the person you want to be with the rest of your life based on a photoshoot!” I said, my voice rising. “It’s ridiculous! All of this is ridiculous!”

“I know you cared about this competition a lot,” Piers said.

“But I didn’t! I didn’t care about this competition. I’m only here because I need—”

I broke off mid-sentence. All of the tears that I’d been holding back came streaming out in a wave of sobs.

What did I need? I needed Arlen to get better. I needed to win this contest so that I could help my sister.  And it wasn’t going to happen.

I buried my face in my hands, unable to stop the sobs that wrenched from my chest.

“I need—I
need—”

Piers had frozen into an expression of uncertainty. He had no idea what was going on, why I was crying so hard on this stupid couch during this stupid elimination interview. I was sure every single other contestant had broken down into tears at the thought of losing Dylan. Did he think I was pretending?

“It’s okay,” he said. He handed me a box of tissues and touched my shoulder. His hand was warm and firm, and I wanted to collapse into him, to make him take away my pain however he could. But I couldn’t even ask him for that.

“It’s
not
okay!” I wiped away my tears and glared up at the cameras behind him. “It’s not okay. I needed that money.”

“Money?”

Piers gave a surprised glance up to the cameras.

“Yes,
money
,” I said, trying to catch my breath between sobs. “You know, the reason all of these girls came here in the first place? Because Dylan has a ton of money. My sister’s kid—Piers, she’s
sick
. She has cancer. I need money to pay for her treatments. And I can’t—I quit my job so I could—but then I can’t even win this contest. I’m not pretty enough, I can’t do a fucking
photoshoot
. And it’s all my fault, and if I can’t pay for it—”

I stopped before saying it:
She’ll die.

Piers stared at me, his lips parted. He looked shocked, truly shocked.

“Piers, please,” I said. Desperation choked my throat, and my face was hot with tears. “If there’s any way to get back in. If I could talk to Dylan, please—”

“This interview is over.”

Both Piers and I snapped our heads up. There was a woman standing in the doorway. She had a sleek black dress on, her black hair tied back in a bun. It was one of the producers.

“Thank you, Mr. Letocci,” the woman said. “That’ll be enough.”

“We weren’t finished,” Piers said, standing up.

“You’re finished now.”

“But—” I started.

The woman snapped her fingers. Two security guards came forward from the hallway.

“Escort the contestant off the premises,” she ordered. “Mr. Letocci, the other two producers would like to see you back in the studio for editing.”

To my surprise, Piers paused for only a second before nodding. He stepped away from me. As I watched him go, I felt all of my hopes being ripped away. He wasn’t going to help, not at all. I watched as the camera crew followed him into the elevator.

“Piers,” I called after him. “Piers, wait! Make them stop!” The security guards closed their hands over my shoulders in a viselike grip.

“Piers
!” I shouted.

The doors closed on his impassive face.

It was over.

Chapter Thirty-Six

I didn’t cry when Piers left. I didn’t cry when the security guards escorted me down and out of the building. My tears had already been spent on other sorrows. And all that was left was a dull, aching pain in my gut, eclipsed by the growing fear that I wasn’t going to be able to do what I’d said I was going to do.

I walked through the streets of New York City aimlessly, my bag slung over my shoulder. The crowds of people walking around me seemed to move in fast-forward. They all walked with intention, their eyes focused ahead of them to some determined purpose.

I wanted to stop them and shake them by the shoulders.
Slow down!
I would say.
What is it that you think matters so much?

A bum held out a plastic cup to the tourists ahead of me. The lady moved away quickly, but the man dug in his pockets and came up with a handful of change. The muted jangle of coins in the plastic cup echoed in my ears as I walked past. I needed help, too. Suddenly I had the image in my head of me sitting down on the sidewalk with a cardboard sign:
Need forty thousand dollars by tomorrow.
An insane laugh bubbled to my lips.