Billionaire Protector: A Dark Romance Read online

  “Don’t roll your eyes at me. You know I hate that,” Fred says with barely concealed anger. He keeps his voice low to avoid attracting any attention, but there’s a threat behind his words.

  “What do you want, Fred?” I sigh with exhaustion. All the fights we’ve had are coming back now, weighing me down all at once. I don’t even have the energy to be angry anymore.

  “What do I want? That’s all you have to say to me after five months of not seeing me?” He sweeps his unruly brown hair back with one hand like he often does when he’s upset. He takes a deep breath, then looks straight into my eyes. “I’ve tried to forget you, Alice, but I can’t.”

  “Well, try harder.” I give him a stern look.

  “I miss you. I don’t know how to live without you.”

  “You should’ve thought about that before you fucked that girl then.”

  “Don’t you miss me? At all?” He narrows his eyes at me.

  “Not really,” I say honestly. Not until I got those flowers, which turned out to be from someone else.

  “How could you be so heartless? What we had for five years, that means nothing to you?”

  “That’s not what I’m saying.” His accusation hits me where it hurts. Can’t he see how much effort I’ve already put into our relationship?

  “See? You still care. I can see it in your eyes,” he says pleadingly. “If you’d just put your pride aside, I’m sure we can work things out.”

  “I can’t do this anymore, Fred. You’re going to have to let me go.” The coffee shop feels crowded, almost claustrophobic. I need to get out of here, but I know Fred would just grab my hand again, and people would gawk at us.

  “Can’t you see I’m suffering without you? I know what I did was wrong. I’ve apologized so many times. What more do you want? Some flowers? Let’s walk out of here and get some flowers, then.” His voice gets louder and higher, although he keeps it in check so the people at the surrounding tables can’t hear.

  “It’s not about the flowers, Fred. You just don’t get it.”

  “Tell me so I get it, then. I’m going crazy, Alice. I might just kill myself.”

  Shit. Not this again.

  “Don’t do that, Fred. Please don’t do that.”

  This is not the first time Fred has said something like this. Fred has used his suicide threats to stop me from leaving, more times than I can count.

  I finally told Emily about it after our last break-up, even though I was embarrassed that a dirty tactic like that had worked to make me stick around for five years.

  Emily told me not to cave if he ever tries that again, and to call the cops or his family so they can handle it instead.

  It sounds so simple, but I was always too close to the problem to see the solution. Well, I’ve spent some time distancing myself from the problem, and now I see what has to be done. I know I can’t just give in. Not again.

  “I’m serious this time, Alice. I know I’m a bad person,” Fred says. He slaps himself in the face, making a loud smacking sound. It happens so quickly that by the time people turn around to look, he’s already sitting normally, albeit with one red cheek. “Please. I’m so sorry. Hit me. Come on. Let’s go somewhere so you can hit me as much as you want without people looking.”

  “I don’t want to hit you, Fred.”

  “What do you want, then? What can I do so you’ll give me just one more chance?”

  I stay quiet, looking around us to think of a good way to escape the situation without drawing people’s attention.

  “What are you thinking about? Are you thinking about how pathetic I am? It’s you, Alice. It’s because of you. I can’t help it. I’m too crazy about you. You made me this way. Please give me another chance. I’ll do better, I promise.”

  I swallow, my heart beating faster. He’s getting more unhinged. What can I do to stop him from melting down?

  In the past, I used to back down at this point and agree to get back together with him.

  But I’ve made so much progress these past few months. I don’t want to start all over again when we inevitably break up.

  “I gave you many chances in the five years we were together, Fred,” I softly remind him.

  “Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no.” He shakes his head repeatedly. “You already like someone else, don’t you? Who’s this guy who gave you the flowers, huh? If I see that motherfucker…” Fred balls his hand up into a fist and raises it, like he’s ready to punch someone.

  Throughout our relationship, Fred has always been overly jealous and insecure.

  Once, I wandered into a new neighborhood for a couple of hours and didn’t realize that my phone had died. By the time I got home and turned it back on, I had sixteen missed calls from Fred and twenty-three text messages.

  We proceeded to have a tearful hour-long argument over the phone, in which he accused me of having met someone else in the produce aisle, and of deliberately turning off my phone so he wouldn’t interrupt.

  Yeah, I can’t deal with that anymore. Not for another minute.

  “This is not about anyone else, Fred. This is about you and me. And we’re done.” I stare at him as I get up this time. “If you try to stop me, I’ll scream and people will get you off me. I’ll call the cops if I have to.”

  “Fuck, Alice. How could you? You’re being so mean and selfish right now.”

  I look him right in the eye and speak slowly so he hears every word. “I don’t care what you think of me, Fred.”

  With that, I turn around and walk out of the café.

  As soon as the door closes behind me, my feet feel light. It’s like I’ve left behind a big weight at the table. A big, Fred-shaped weight.

  All this time, I was afraid of being alone. But what’s so bad about being alone? It’s way better than staying in a miserable relationship.

  I grab my phone and fire off a quick text to Fred’s sister, Wendy. We’ve never been close and I don’t really like her, but I have her number anyway just because Fred and I were together for so long.

  Wendy, keep a close eye on your brother, would you? He just told me he’s having suicidal thoughts. Thanks.

  I fire off the text.

  Fred’s not my problem anymore.

  I should’ve done this years ago.

  4

  Seth

  Fuck.

  I fucked up.

  I thought I was being careful, only coming to The Local every week.

  I’ve been holding myself back. I thought it would be enough to distance myself from Alice, enough to keep them away from her.

  But now they know. They know she exists.

  I have a plan. I just don’t know if it’ll work.

  No, let me rephrase that.

  I know for sure that it’ll work, but Alice will get hurt in the process.

  God fucking damn it. How did I let things get this bad?

  Driving all the way to the city every week, just to have dinner alone at the same restaurant? Sure, that’s not weird at all.

  Fucking idiot.

  I only realized it when I saw one of Walter’s men lurking in the shadows, but it was too late. I already had one foot inside the restaurant.

  There’s a chance this is the first time he’s following me, but it’s unlikely. This is probably just the first time I notice him.

  He would’ve seen—and reported to Walter—that I always come here and talk to the cute chef every week. He might’ve even seen her walk home with flowers, and he could’ve correctly concluded that they were from me.

  Damn it, just thinking about that guy creeping on my Alice makes my skin crawl. I want to run out there, grab him by the collar, and hit him in the face until his brain erases whatever memory is stored there of Alice. Too bad that would risk our entire operation.

  I sit at my usual spot and order the Chef’s Special, like I always do.

  From here, when the door to the kitchen opens at the right time and at the right angle, I can catch a glimpse of her—my a
ngel, doing what she does best in the kitchen, her face full of concentration. I can’t get enough of that laser focus, that absolute serenity on her face when she’s at work. She’s in her element.

  She takes one look at the scrap of paper with my order on it, glances at the clock, and scans the restaurant for me. She has a strange expression on her face when she finds me.

  She knows my routine by now. For five months, I’ve been coming here every Thursday night at seven sharp.

  I remember the moment she first started to look for me when she’d get a single order of the Chef’s Special at around seven on a Thursday.

  My heart stopped, then kicked back into gear with a vengeance.

  At first, she looked annoyed to see me.

  I don’t blame her. I probably made her life harder, with all the complaints I sent to the kitchen.

  But I was just trying to improve her cooking. And, to be honest, I needed excuses to get her cute ass out here so we could talk.

  One night, to my surprise, she started taking my suggestions. The food got even better and, best of all, I knew she wanted my approval.

  That knowledge makes me want her more. I want to push her limits, see how far she’ll go to please me.

  The kitchen door swings open and our eyes meet. She flashes me a quick, small smile.

  I used to lament the fact that we could never be anything more than a chef and a diner. I used to wish we could spend more time together.

  Well, be careful what you wish for—I should’ve learned that lesson a long time ago.

  Now I’m going to spend more time with Alice, for sure. A lot more time. Probably way more time than she expects or wants, but she has no choice now, all because of my own carelessness.

  The food arrives, and I try to live in the moment, to savor what Alice has prepared for me. Her cooking hits my palate at the right place, like it always does these days. It’s delicious, and there are moments when my taste buds pump so much delight into my system that I forget my problems.

  But still, I don’t enjoy it as much as I usually do.

  I’ve already made a plan in case something like this happens, always hoping I wouldn’t have to actually carry it out. As I continue to eat, in my head I play and replay the plan quietly, my heart pounding in my chest.

  I can’t believe I’m actually about to do this to her.

  At the end of the meal, Alice comes out to greet me as usual. This is our own secret routine now, our own private dance.

  She looks radiant today, like there’s a spring in her step. We exchange the usual words. She asks me how the food is; I tell her it’s delicious; she tells me to enjoy the rest of the meal; then she says she has to go back to the kitchen.

  That’s when I do something out of the ordinary.

  “No, don’t go yet,” I say.

  She stops in her tracks at my words. My heart races. Her obedience makes me want to order her to do other things, like getting on her knees and opening that pretty mouth for me.

  I swallow, chasing away my dirty thoughts.

  This is not the time.

  “Can I help you with anything else?” Alice turns around to face me with a smile.

  Yes, I’d like to order one blowjob, please, I think to myself.

  Maybe she’s just being polite, but that smile makes me want to grab her and give her a kiss. I want to turn that smile into an open mouth, panting with desire.

  Instead, I say the words I’ve been rehearsing in my head. “I’m looking for a new chef. Interested?”

  “Oh, you own a restaurant?”

  “No, but I’m very particular about what I eat, as you already know. I live about two hours outside the city. We have fresh air and great views there. It’ll be good for you to escape the city for once,” I say.

  “That’s true. All this smoke and pollution must be killing me slowly, after all.” She grins, her nose crinkling as she does.

  “Well, give it some thought. You’ll get a place to stay for free and you’ll get paid really well.”

  “Oh, where will I be staying?”

  “All my house staff live on the premises. There isn’t much going on in the area. Most of the people in the nearby town have lived there for generations, and they’re unlikely to have rooms to rent out.”

  “It sounds good, but I don’t know…” Alice bites her bottom lip and her eyes flick to the side as she thinks.

  “Like I said, I’ll make it worth your while. Feel free to say no, of course.” I lie. There’s no option for her to say no. This is not so much an offer as it is a necessity now. She has to come with me, for her own safety.

  “I like the sound of that,” she says, smiling, completely unaware of the danger facing her.

  “I’ll pay you twice whatever The Local is paying you,” I say.

  Her eyes grow wide. “Are you serious?”

  “Dead serious,” I say, telling the truth this time.

  “I’m tempted,” she says, her teeth stabbing into her lower lip again.

  “If you’re interested, call me.” I dig into my pocket and give her my business card.

  I should stop this conversation before Walter’s guy gets suspicious. He’s probably still watching outside. And with the big windows surrounding us, anyone from outside can clearly see what’s happening inside the restaurant.

  “Just think about it,” I say. “You can save up while you work for me. Even if you hate it and you quit after a few months, you’ll be in a much better financial situation by then.”

  Alice smiles as she drops my business card into the little pocket in her white shirt, where the logo of the restaurant is embroidered.

  I want to rip that logo off her chest and brand her with my name. I’ll get to do that, if she says yes. If she says no… Well, she’s still coming with me, only there probably won’t be any cooking involved, which would be a shame.

  “I’ll definitely think about it,” she says.

  “Don’t take too long. I’m free tomorrow, any time after five in the afternoon. Come see me at the address on the business card. We’ll sit down and talk. You’ll say yes within five minutes. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

  If you don’t, I’ll pick you up anyway tomorrow, I think quietly to myself. It’ll be a lot more pleasant for you if you come yourself, though.

  “Got it. I’ll call you tomorrow,” Alice says.

  “Good.” I smile. I watch her back as she walks away. Under my breath, I whisper, “I’m sorry.”

  A few hours later, she texts me to say that she’ll come to see me tomorrow night. I heave a sigh of relief.

  The situation is far from ideal. If I had my way, she’d stay far away from my problems. She’d continue working happily in the city. But now she’s involved, whether she likes it or not.

  I’m just glad I don’t have to drag her kicking and screaming to my place.

  No, at least the first few days will be nice. I’ll stretch it out as long as I can. Because after that, when she finds out, the kicking and screaming will start.

  5

  Alice

  The car reaches a tall, wrought-iron gate. A big man with a solemn face peers at us through gaps in the curved metal, and the gate opens for us. We drive down the long driveway, around the fountain, and stop by the front door.

  “We’re here,” says the driver.

  “Thank you, Anthony.”

  I’m glad he announced it, because otherwise I would've thought this was some kind of contemporary museum. Considering the size, I can probably call it a mansion. The façade, dominated by dark metals and glass, looks modern and imposing.

  I spot several men in the garden, buff men who wear black, like the man at the gate—and, come to think of it, my driver, too.

  I wonder what they do. Are they gardeners? Are gardeners usually this brawny? Are they security? Why would Seth need this kind of security?

  His understated business card simply says Seth Wayne, and lists a phone number and an email address. No men
tion of his line of work at all.

  The main question pops into my head, the same question that I’ve been asking myself: How well do I really know Seth Wayne?

  The answer scares me: not very well. I didn't even know his last name until he gave me his business card last night.

  To be honest, I have a small crush on him. Just a tiny one. Can you blame me? The guy is hot as sin, even if he’s rude and demanding.

  What can I say? He appreciates good food, and it flatters me that he’d hire me, considering his high standards.

  When he called me back to the table last night, I thought he was finally going to ask me out. Everybody said he was about to do it soon. There was even a betting pool going on in the kitchen.

  Then, instead of a date, he asked me to an interview. Of course a man like him wouldn't go for someone like me. I mean, just look at this mansion! Obviously, the man is some kind of a billionaire. He probably only dates supermodels.

  It's not that I don't like getting complimented on my cooking. Of course I appreciate the compliments; cooking is my art. What's an artist without the people who appreciate her art?

  It was just a rough day for my feminine confidence.

  When I saw Fred at lunch yesterday, I realized I’d been waiting for a loser to change his ways for me for five damn years. Why did I do that? What a waste of precious time!

  It makes me so angry when I think about it, not so much because it didn't work out, but more because it took me so long to realize it was never going to work out.

  Then, I realized I still had no idea who had sent me the flowers. So, when Seth asked for more time, I was hoping…

  Ah, never mind. I was being dumb.

  I shake my head to dispel the negativity brewing inside my brain.

  I’ve decided today is a new day. I’ve obviously been in a funk, and a new beginning is exactly what I need.

  For weeks, I’d been pining for Fred, thinking about how he was finally becoming the thoughtful guy who’d finally treat me right. I couldn't have been more wrong.