Fixer for the Billionaire: A Spicy Billionaire Romantic Comedy (Seattle's Anderson Family)

Chapter 5

CARMINA

The moment I step out of the SUV to check the questionable job I did on the spare tire, the sky decides to unleash a downpour. It”s as if it took a cue from Quentin”s earlier weather prediction. Rain pelts down, transforming my minor inconvenience into a soaking mess.

”He just had to be right about the serial killer weather,” I mutter, trying to shield myself with the car door, which offers as much protection as a leaf in a hurricane.

Right on schedule, Quentin”s big black Escalade pulls up. He hops out, struggling to open an umbrella against the gusting wind, wearing a grin that says, ”Told you so” without a word.

”Looks like you could use a hand.” His gaze briefly sweeps over my soaked blouse and skirt before meeting my eyes.

”My hero,” I say, drenched in sarcasm as much as rain.

I roll my eyes but slide into his passenger seat. Quentin, unfazed by the downpour or the morning”s chaos, nods as if offering rides to stranded folks is just his daily routine.

Gabi and Val don”t hesitate to take him up on his offer to drive them to their Saturday commitments, hopping in the backseat, already dry and cozy.

While Quentin focuses on the road, I attempt to wrangle my hair into something less like I’ve battled a shower head, hoping to salvage the rest of my Saturday.

Flipping the passenger seat visor to reveal the mirror, I take in the scent of Quentin”s cologne mixed with the leather seats and outside dampness.

”You won”t believe our morning,” I start, trying to break the ice with something other than the weather.

Gabi chimes in from the back, unable to hide her excitement despite the chaos. ”I was worried I”d miss soccer practice! But it looks like I”ll make it for the second half and team lunch. Coach is gonna have a field day with me for being late, though.”

Val, brimming with the enthusiasm only an eleven-year-old could have for weekend education, adds, ”And we”re launching rockets in science today! I even researched making my own rocket fuel.”

“That’s something I’ve forbidden her to do, for safety reasons,” I quickly add, earning an eye roll from Val.

Quentin raises an eyebrow, a half-smile on his lips. ”Sounds like an adventurous day. Well, I”m glad I can help make it less stressful. Buckle up, team; we”ve got places to be and rockets to launch.”

The girls seem satisfied with that.

Then Gabi, the resident social media sleuth, leans forward, her dark brows furrowed in mock seriousness. ”So, Quentin, your dating life”s all over Instagram. What”s it like, dating in the limelight? Any tips for someone aspiring to fame-by-association?” she asks, her brown eyes eager for gossip.

Val furrows her brows for a different reason. ”And about this Escalade... it”s huge. Is it, like, good for the planet? My science project”s all about reducing our carbon footprint, and this doesn”t seem very... eco-friendly,” she concludes, her dark eyes scanning the leather interior with concern.

Quentin laughs, green eyes crinkling. He looks at me before clearing his throat. ”Well, it seems the little sister apples didn”t fall far from the big sister tree...” he mumbles.

”What was that?” Val leans forward.

”Nothing. Just...thinking. To answer your questions,” he glances at the girls in the rearview mirror, ”don”t believe everything you see online.” He winks at Gabi. ”And about the Escalade, don”t worry, Val. It”s a hybrid. Plus, I plant a tree for every mile I drive. How”s that for balance?”

Val nods, seemingly pacified by his commitment to environmental reparation.

But Gabi isn’t done. ”That post about your date last month. Was she really a circus performer? And the pet tiger?”

Quentin chuckles, shaking his head. ”I wish it was all true, but no, it was just a staged photoshoot for a brand. And no tiger. That would be a recipe for ending up like a disposable extra in a Wes Craven movie.”

Gabi raises an eyebrow. ”Who”s Wes Craven?”

Quentin blinks, then looks at me with raised brows. ”What have you been teaching these young ladies?”

”More important things. Like how to change a tire and do taxes.”

”Well, we”ll have to add ”watching horror films” to the list. Wes Craven”s a horror genius.”

Val leans forward, her voice tinged with curiosity. ”So, Quentin, got any scary movie recommendations?”

”Hmm, well,” Quentin says, lifting one hand from the steering wheel to scratch his chin, ”you have to start with the classics like ”The Shining” or ”Halloween”. If you”re up for some modern scares, ”Hereditary” or ”Get Out” are solid choices. Want to really freak yourself out? Watch them alone in the dark.” He smirks.

Gabi”s eyes go wide. ”Yeah, I think I”ll pass on that.”

Quentin”s laugh, a deep rumble, fills the car, blending with the sound of the quickening rain outside. ”But seriously, horror movies are more than just scares. They often reflect societal fears and issues. Perfect for date night, too.”

“Not that she”s planning on dating any time soon.” I send Val a side glance.

“The ‘date’ part is for the adults here. The scares are for the kids...and me.” Quentin grins. “If you need it, I offer moral support, Val.”

Driving through the city, Quentin points out landmarks featured in horror films, sharing anecdotes. We pass a mansion famous for its appearances in several scary movies.

His references to ”The Ring” and ”The Poltergeist” captivate Gabi and Val, leaving them hanging on every word.

It reminds me of three years ago when I first met Quentin at the company retreat. Tall, with dark dirty-blond hair and piercing pine-green eyes, he was immediately magnetic.

Confident and charming, Quentin could command a room effortlessly.

I was captivated by his passion for...well, anything, really.

As we sat by the campfire that night, beers in hand, talking movies, I was eager to learn more about him. But as I did, the illusion faded.

Like the horror films he adored, Quentin was skilled in deception.

Beneath his charismatic exterior was a self-centered man.

It took time for me to see past his charm and wit. When I finally did, I ended our brief fling.

I understand the allure of Quentin”s easy smiles and smooth talk. Even now, Gabi and Val are slowly being drawn in.

They”re so absorbed; they barely notice as we stop in front of Gabi”s soccer practice field.

As Gabi and Val leave the car, Quentin turns to me with that sly grin.

”Round two next Saturday?” he asks, his smile fading into a serious look.

I return a small smile. ”We”re good from here.”

”Understood.” He nods, expression unreadable. ”I”ve rescheduled our meeting with Puddle and Glitter for tomorrow. I”ll drop you off and handle your car. Unless...”

”Unless?”

”There”s anything else you need?” His eyebrow lifts suggestively.

The thought of asking Quentin for anything twists my stomach.

”Thanks, but no thanks.”

”Anytime.” He shrugs, pulling out of the parking lot. “By the way…”

“Yeah?”

“I apologize for that sexist-ass comment about ‘sucking things’. I’m working on not being an ass.”

A moment passes before I respond. “I know.”

He nods, an understanding passing between us. The drive back to my place is silent, the only sound the soft hum of the car heater.