The Solitary Billionaire (2 page)

“Mother, of course not,”
Minx squealed and shook her head.

“Have you thought about the
person you are going to choose?”

“I’m going to spend tonight
thinking about it, I’ll talk to you tomorrow Mummy,” said Minx.

“Congratulations,
Minx.
 
Goodnight,” said her mother, hanging
up the phone.

Minx sat very still,
examining the Golden Star ticket.
 
It was
made from a sheet of pure gold hammered into the shape of a glimmering
star.
 
Minx took several deep breaths as
a slow and marvellous smile spread over her face and she proceeded to dial the
telephone number listed on the back of the golden star.

The sun was shining
brightly the following morning but the air was still ice-cold as a swarm of
photographers and journalists camped outside her apartment.
 
Minx could not believe they had tracked her
down already.
 
They all wanted to get the
full story for the front pages of the afternoon papers.
 
For several hours there was pandemonium
outside the apartment.

Minx slipped on a dazzling
print geometric jumpsuit with a Karl Lagerfeld leather corset belt and
skyscraper Louboutins.
 
Minx indulged in
two slices of toast with sprinkled cheese and a coffee.

She grabbed her coat and
designer handbag and left her apartment wearing minimal makeup and Gucci
sunglasses to attend a photo shoot.
 
Minx
was the face of a new range of makeup and was participating in a lavish
advertising campaign.
 
She waved to the cameras
and brushed past the waiting press swamping her with questions.
 
Minx hopped into a slick Aston Martin waiting
outside to drive her to her assignment.
 

Minx crossed her enviably
toned legs and picked up her tinkling mobile as the Aston Martin sped through
the city.

“Hello Darling,”

“Is it true?”

“Yes Mary, who told you?”

“I just saw a photo of you
on bloody SKY news,” she yelled down the phone.

“The media certainly work
fast,” Minx giggled.

“Everyone is talking about
it.
 
Have you thought about whom you want
to spend the week with?”

“I rang the Game Show this
morning.
 
I thought about it all last
night.
 
It has to be my teenage crush, the
elusive, mysterious Stanley Marx,” Minx said, turning her attention to a
roasted peanut and caramel chocolate Snickers bar.

This news was greeted by a
minute silence at the other end of the phone.

“Are you kidding?
 
You can choose royalty, a movie star, a rock
star and you choose the billionaire business mogul and ageing Stanley
Marx?
 
He hasn’t been seen in Public in
over ten years.
 
Stanley Marx is a
notorious recluse.
 
He lives in complete
seclusion since his three-year-old son and wife died in a car accident, There
is no way he’s going to agree.
 
He bowed
out of living years ago,” her eyes were wide with surprise.

“He’s never given an interview
about what happened that fateful night.
 
I
heard he was driving the car.
 
I’m a
budding journalist and that would be the interview of a lifetime.
 
It would be the most exhilarating adventure,”
she said, her ice-blue eyes alight with excitement.
 
Minx looked like a fragile child.

 
“Moving on from an experience like that is
tough.
 
I read he was tormented with
grief and cut everyone out of his life.
 
The papers say he fires all his staff every year,” Mary said closing her
eyes and shaking her head.

“Stanley Marx is one of
Hollywood’s most intriguing and perplexing figures of the 20
^th
century.
 
He is also one of the world’s
richest men.
 
Before he got married, he
was a renowned womaniser and owned half of Hollywood.
 
He’s a living legend and I’d love to spend a
week with him,” Minx declared, giddy with joy.

“I know he went to
Cambridge University to study law, after graduating he moved into film
directing, shipping and property development.
 
No leading lady was able to resist him.
 
He broke up countless marriages,” giggled Mary, twirling her hair around
her manicured nails.

“I’ve arrived at the photo
shoot, darling.
 
This will be the last
modelling assignment I can do for a few weeks. I have to embark on a blitz of
publicity for the Game Show.
 
Call you
later,” said Minx as the Aston Martin ground to a halt and the driver stepped
out to open the car door for Minx.

“I understand, Bye
darling,” said Mary, hanging up.

***

The elevator pinged to a
halt at the third floor of the grey building and Minx walked out to the crew
clapping and cheering.
 
Her cheeks heated
at the sight of the crowd.
 
The excitement
was tremendous.
 
Ten people clustered
around Minx.
 
Everyone wanted to get a
look at the golden star and the lucky finder.

“Can we see the golden star?”
somebody shouted.
 
“What celebrity are
you going to spend a week with?”

“When will it be?” someone
else shouted.
 
“Will it be televised?”

“I bought three hundred
copies of the Evening Bulletin and I found nothing,” a makeup artist shouted
enviously.

Minx stood still and felt
dizzy from the constant attention.
 
She
wished Mary was here to take control of the photo shoot.

“Come on, guys,” she
shouted, “Let’s get to work and I’ll tell you all about it.”
 
Minx had a gift of making people feel at
ease, smoothing things over and making sure a fashion show or photo shoot ran
seamlessly.
  

***

The producer of the Game Show,
Mitch Cooper telephoned Minx that evening, as she sat by the black counter in
her minimal stainless steel kitchen.
 
The
contemporary kitchen looked sleek and modern, teamed with bright painted
yellows walls and vanilla coloured cupboards.

“Honey, we are as surprised
as you are.
 
Are you sitting down?”

“I sure am,” said Minx
munching on a ketchup-drenched chip before taking a sip from a strawberry
milkshake.

“We are in shock, but we
talked to his agent and because it’s for charity, the notoriously reclusive
Stanley Marx has agreed,” he hollered down the phone in excitement.
 
Mitch Cooper was fully aware that an
interview with Stanley Marx would cause their show’s ratings to explode.
 
Their Game show and the Evening Bulletin had
the potential to make a profit of millions.

“The business magnate,
Stanley Marx had not been seen in public in ten years,” he continued, his voice
tight with exhilaration, “This could be the media scoop of the year.”

“That is great news,” she
gushed and gave a beaming smile, “When do I need to start packing?”

***

The big day finally
arrived.
 
Minx Valour arrived at the
offices of the Game show to meet the staff before getting escorted to the
airport.
 
She looked stunning in virginal
white.
 
The lighting in the contemporary
office was soft and pleasant.

The host of the Game show,
Teddy Wellington arrived to greet Minx.
 
His eyes were sparkling with fun and laughter. He reminded Minx Valour
of a chunky squirrel in the quickness of his movements.
 
He spread his arms wide to meet Minx and gave
her a giant hug.
 

“Congratulations, my dear,
Congratulations!”

“Thank you,” said Minx
giggling.
 
Teddy was just as excited as
everybody else.

“I hope you are prepared
for a television interview after the week.
 
I’ll be asking about all the sordid details.
 
You need to find out as much as you can about
the man.
 
Who is Stanley Marx?
 
He is such an enigma.
 
Have a good flight and try to find out what
happened on that fateful night ten years ago,” he said in a high-pitched voice,
clapping her on the back.
 

“Of course,” Minx said
politely and watched Teddy stride down the corridor with a trail of staff trotting
after him.

The Game Show driver picked
up her suitcase and directed Minx towards a Mercedes.
 
She waved goodbye to the remaining team from
the Game Show and stepped into the back of the sleek black car.
 
She inhaled sharply and sank into the reclining
electric leather seat.
 
Minx Valour felt
like royalty as she glided towards the airport.
 
She shut her eyes and felt the morning sun shining through the window
warm her pale skin.
 

***

Twelve hours later, Minx
Valour arrived at St Lucia, a small, lush tropical gem of an island, where she
was greeted by Stanley Marx’s assistant, Jake.
 
He was the only person that had worked for Stanley Marx longer than five
years.
 
Stanley trusted Jake and admired
his directness.
 
Jake looked a bit like
an overstuffed sausage, but he had a pleasing face with dark curly hair, olive
skin and a strong Australian accent.
 

“Minx Valour?”

 
“Yes, “said Minx, shaking his hand and
examining his face.
 
It was certainly
like at first sight.
 
He seemed an open,
honest man with a pleasant nature.
 
She
liked the way his cute eyes crinkled at the corners.

“Come with me,” he said
grabbing her suitcase and directing Minx towards a nearby open top Wrangler Jeep.

Minx desperately wanted to
explore the natural beauty spots on the Island.
 
It looked like an exclusive haven of peace and serenity.

“Have we far to go?”

“Not too far.
 
We just have a 40-minute journey to Stanley’s
private Island.”

Minx let out a squeal of
delight that drew a grin from Jake.

“Are there any other occupants
on the Island?”

“It’s just Stanley and his
staff.
 
It’s paradise.
 
Stanley lives in a sprawling mansion complete
with stables, private pier and an infinity pool.
 
I live in the manager’s residence, the
original cottage of the island.
 
I’m his
personal assistant and I’m in charge of the staff.”

“Are you nervous?”
 
He added.

“No,” she hesitated.
 
Minx Valour was feeling in equal parts nervous
and excited.
 

“You should be,” he said
laughing heartily as he revved up the engine.

 
Minx spent the rest of the journey admiring
the splendour of the palm-fringed beaches, colourful gardens, scenic rolling
hills and orchards of banana, coconut and papaya trees.

The white Jeep rolled down
the island’s steep coastline, past the aged fortresses, small villages and
open-air markets.
 
Shortly afterwards, Jake
parked the Jeep by a pier.
 
This was
followed by a five minute powerboat ride to Stanley Marx’s luxury tiny private
island.

As the powerboat approached
the tropical Island, Minx was stunned by the spectacular view.
 
Minx Valour was surrounded by beautiful
turquoise waters, coral reefs and gorgeous sandy beaches.

“You can see the main house
over there,” shouted Jake, pointing towards a contemporary style mansion crowning
a hill above the beach.

“The house is a two storey
pad with 10 bedrooms and several reception rooms.
 
It was made using local stone.
 
There is two private beaches, private pools,
tennis courts, breathtaking views, a personal chef, a team of about 8 staff.
 
Stanley fired the gardener last week.
 
Lucky for Stanley, the gardener had signed an
iron tight confidentiality agreement, so it is not in his interest to sell a
story to a tabloid.”

“Why did he fire the
gardener?”

“Stanley has a small
outdoor yard shrine for his toddler son and he insists fresh flowers are laid
there on a weekly basis.
 
On one
occasion, the gardener forgot and he was fired,” he regarded Minx shrewdly as
her face turned pale.
 
Jake noticed how
vulnerable and childlike she appeared.