Control Freak (The Billionaire Experience #13)
1. Renée
1
RENéE
B ali.
Sea breezes, beautiful pristine beaches, a private beach hut. The entire resort was a study in understated elegance and private indulgences. The location was so exclusive it appeared in no travel brochures and booked through word of mouth.
Those mouths in question being in the top one percent of the world’s wealth. The fact I hit it big in the self-help industry and am in the know of such a place is testament to the amount of hard work and dedication I put into my brand. I’m very hands on and wouldn’t have it any other way.
Well, until…
Let’s say that there are a few leaks in the bucket of my organization and my publicist—Zayre— worked overtime to plug the holes.
Yes, my publicist. Not me. He didn’t want me anywhere near any of this. Plausible deniability, he called it. Normally, I would have disagreed and referred back to the protocols in place that govern all interactions with anyone outside the company—i.e. my brand. However, that would have required me to be upfront and involved in this and well…publicist. Zayre is one of the few people I will listen to when he speaks when it comes to my business.
Another reason for coming to Bali: anonymity. Hopefully. I needed to get away where the rest of the world hadn’t heard of me. Hard to do with my global notoriety.
My face has become the icon for pithy sayings and serene engagement while living your best life. It’s kind of hard to find someplace for a vacation where I’m an unknown. I can’t even walk into a market to pick up ingredients for dinner without fans and acolytes asking for selfies with me or autographs.
Looking out over the water on the deck of my beach hut, the thought hit me that I probably should have picked some place in the Serengeti or Outback. There are other billionaires here who have recognized my face when I went to the dining room at the resort proper. They did not approach me for pictures but acknowledged me with a lifted glass or head nod. Since then, I’ve decided to take a step back and utilize room service. The fewer people recognize me here, the better.
I would have left altogether, but then that would involve asking my One and Done Date to meet me elsewhere. Plane tickets and travel reservations were already made. Too late to change the rendezvous point.
Wow. When I stopped to think of the reckless nature of this trip, it doesn’t seem possible. This isn’t something I would have ever imagined me doing.
I never thought I’d go through with something so outrageous. So out of my comfort zone.
The situation illustrates the lengths I’d go to try to correct my path. The one that meant my possible self-destruction. The fall of my empire.
Thinking about it made bile rise to the back of my throat and my hands to shake.
If I listened to my body and the headaches that never seemed to end, I was headed for a stroke at thirty-four.
I took a breath and held it, then released slowly, practicing the technique I promoted in my books and podcast. Yeah, it didn’t work so well. All I felt was the zinging as all my nerve endings fired at once. I tried it a couple more times until the rising panic began to fade.
That’s what happened when one held on too tightly to the reins. Seams began to split, nuts and bolts rattled, and before long the wheels came completely off.
The sound of the waves as they lapped at the shore lulled me into a more even state of mind.
What would Zayre say if I decided to stay here and never leave? Probably have the stroke I believed was in my future. Hmm, maybe it was contagious.
Still, I’d only been there three days and already my mind wandered back to my headquarters in New York. What are my employees doing? What are they saying? Were they working or playing on their phones and pretending to be productive when in truth they were on Tinder?
And why in the hell was I jealous of them?
I have so much to unpack on the career front and how it ties in with my life in general. I used self-improvement as a means to keep myself from falling apart when I shunned therapy as a young adult. Why did I need it when I had positive visualization and daily affirmations to get me through the heartache of my past?
Yeah, I know. A lot of questions.
Honestly, there’s nothing wrong with sitting on a beautiful beach and indulging in a little personal reflection. However, my breakdown had to be put on hold for a few days once my Date—yes, capital D—arrived.
Okay, back to my One and Done Date. I overheard about the app at a party in Manhattan. Another billionaire—a media mogul—mentioned he’d used it for a weekend getaway and it really changed his perspective. I didn’t ask for particulars on his experience because something about the twinkle in his eye made me suspect that it may have made me blush. When I’m with other powerful and rich people, I try to blend into the background and use that enlightened fa?ade of mine to draw them out. It’s amazing what people will talk about when they know they aren’t being judged.
The idea intrigued me. An anonymous date. An exotic locale. A finite timetable. A way to leave my life behind for forty-eight hours and be someone else. I contacted Ana Serrano the owner of the app and then downloaded and set up my scenario. Then waited.
Maybe that’s all I needed to reset and renew myself. To burn off some of the ragged energy that never seemed to go away.
No matter what the cause, I hung onto my sanity by my fingernails and an extremely disciplined life. Rigid, someone called me.
Those words had stung. They had no right to say them, but they’d hit the nail on the head. My reply had been that I found comfort in predictability. It allowed me to live more in the moment if all the other details of my life were in alignment.
Their expression had been one of confusion and then it cleared as if they had received the same sudden flash of enlightenment that had served the Buddha. Another book idea was born in that moment. That one had put me on the best-sellers’ list for fifty-nine weeks. It spawned workbooks, planners, and even a coloring book or two. Hey, what can I say, my marketing team rocks. The title, Take Charge of Your Space , had even spawned a documentary about living a minimalist life.
Of all my books, this one was the one most unlike me. Sure, I lived out of a suitcase most of the time, and as a result, I had no choice but to live with fewer personal things surrounding me. However, my home was a depository of all things I no longer wanted or needed.
I wondered briefly if my ex was stocked away in there somewhere. The thought made me laugh. Things hadn’t ended well in that relationship. Alec had accused me of organizing all the spontaneity out of our lives. Maybe he was right. With spontaneity came room for mistakes. If planning every moment down to the Nth degree kept things running smoothly and without problems, then who was Alec to complain?
Oh, he’d gone to Vancouver on business and hooked up with a supermodel. They were both vilified in the tabloids and hammered in the press. Who would dare break the heart of the world’s self-help darling?
The worst part was that I had to pretend that it didn’t affect me. That I was so elevated that the betrayal couldn’t touch me. That their actions were so beneath me that to remark on it was to speak ill of them. Unfortunately, I kept silent for other reasons. Nothing to do with my empire, or pride. More like not having the words in me to care. And that was sad.
Alec had done what I was too chicken to do—leave the relationship when it no longer served me or my vision of the future.
Maybe that was where it all started? Who’s to say.
All I know is that I wanted this weekend to blow me away and give me a new outlook on life.
One I desperately needed.