The Billionaire Babe

3. Valerie

“Iswear, this is the most fun I have had in a long time. Thank you for bringing me out,” I tell the girls as we get back to our private lounge in the VIP area. I’m hot from dancing but feeling good.

“Where did you find this place?” Chelsea asks Chloe as we all look around. My eyes survey the dance floor below. The crowd was smaller when we arrived, but now it is really pumping. I take in the busy bar, the few staff behind looking run off their feet.

“One of my best customers came into the store this week talking all about it. I thought it would be perfect for us tonight,” Chloe says, looking at me with a worried smile. As a jewelry designer, she sees a lot of different people, all who love to give her the latest gossip and tell her about the trending places. Her pieces are very sought after, being one of the best designers in the country.

“It’s great!” I say, giving my friends a small smile, and they all look at me with concern.

“You needed it. Let’s be honest, the bomb Father Van Cleef dropped on you this week… I can’t believe you are not comatose somewhere, rocking yourself,” Simone quips, taking a sip of her champagne.

“I’m fine. Everything is going to be fine,” I tell her, trying way too hard to keep my smile in place. She looks at me like she doesn”t believe a word I say. Neither do I.

“Seriously, can you just tell your father thanks but no thanks?” Chloe asks.

“I have no idea what I am going to do.” Giving up on putting on a fa?ade, my head drops to my hands. I haven’t seen my father since I had dinner at his place earlier this week. I’ve spent my days working and trying to figure out how I can take my rightful place at the head of Van Cleef Corp and not get married to a man my father chooses.

“You’re an adult. You can just not do it,” Simone says, like it is the easiest decision.

“I know. But if I don’t do it, then he will blacklist me from working anywhere in Baltimore. Probably the entire East Coast, actually. I would lose access to Van Cleef Corp entirely…” I fidget with my hands, the feeling of uncertainty crawling up my neck.

“And tell me again how that is any different to your current situation?” Chelsea asks, raising her perfectly shaped eyebrow at me. I balk then, because she is right; it is no different to my life now. My father has already told me I will never work again.

“I’ve never not done what my father has asked before. Plus, he is all I have left,” I tell them, swallowing the uncomfortable feeling, pleading with them to understand. It sounds immature, but ever since Mom died, I have tried everything to be the perfect daughter. He always said he had enough to worry about and didn’t want me to be one of them. So I made it my life’s mission. Straight A student. I am not promiscuous, I keep my friends circle tight, I work hard, don’t really party, and I’ve never stepped a foot out of place. But the real issue is, I have no one else. No other family. If I go against him and challenge him for the CEO position, then I will be on my own, an orphan.

“Of course you haven’t. You have been the perfect daughter. Done everything asked of you. You work your ass off, you go to every charity function, and you are beautiful. Every man in this city wants you and every woman in this city wants to be you. You do it all in the hopes that your father will finally open his eyes and see how truly amazing you are and treat you like the beautiful daughter you are. Everyone else in this godforsaken city can see it but him. You need to stop doing everything he asks of you.” I give Simone a small smile and nod, grateful to have such amazing girlfriends.

“It’s not that easy…” I say, shaking my head a little. There is a lot to consider.

“We know it isn’t. But just know you always have us,” Chloe says, reaching out and grabbing my hand, offering me a small squeeze of support. I swallow as her words penetrate and remind me that I do have her and the girls. I have someone. They may not be blood, but they are more family than my father has been.

“Besides, you can’t get married; there are too many hot guys here,” Simone adds, lightening the mood, her eyes glued to a team of security men who stand at the front of the club. She isn’t wrong.

“Don’t you see enough hot guys during the week?” Chelsea asks, looking at her in question.

“I am a physiotherapist. I am a professional,” Simone says sternly, sitting up straighter with a sparkle in her eye.

“A professional who has her hands all over the state’s best NFL team,” Chloe sniggers, and I cough a laugh.

“How is the Beauty Bar going? I need to come in this week,” I ask Chelsea, both interested in her business and also trying to ascertain her availability to see if I can get in to see her for an eyebrow shape. My father’s voice runs through my mind about losing a few pounds and fixing my appearance.

“Your brows are amazing, as always. You don’t need to come in. But I am thinking of opening another store down on the water. Can you look over the legal contract for me?” she asks, and I smile.

“That is amazing. Of course. I am happy to.” My cell vibrates in my bag, and I pull it out while the girls chatter. It’s a notification from socials, so I click on it quickly and heave in a breath.

“What is it?” Chloe asks. She is eagle-eyed at the best of times, so I am not surprised she was watching me.

“Oh, nothing,” I say with a forced smile, while my heart thuds in my chest and panic fills my veins.

“Seriously, you look a bit pale. Is everything okay?” Simone asks, and now all my friends are looking at me once again.

“I think… he’s back…” I whisper, the words feeling like acid on my tongue.

“Who’s ba—oh shit…” Simone’s brain catches up with the situation.

“What did it say?” Chelsea demands, and I hand her my phone. I had a stalker situation back when I first left college. It was so frightening that for six months, I didn’t leave the house. My father said it wouldn’t matter how many security guards he put on me, that it wouldn’t make a difference and I should remain hidden until he went away. So, as always, I did exactly what my father told me to and I stayed locked up in the house, going crazy for six months. Since then, nothing, and I forgot all about the vile messages I used to get from random usernames that no amount of blocking and reporting could fix.

“Oh, his username is valimback. How original,” Chelsea says.

“It will be fine. Probably not him. Or her. Or whatever.” I take a sip of champagne, noticing the small shake of my hands. It has been years, and I never did find out who was behind the messages. I left my father to take care of it all at the time. With a wave of my hand, I try to dismiss any worries. “It is probably just some kids playing around.”

“Ahh, this is pretty descriptive…” Chelsea says, handing the phone to Simone as Chloe looks over her shoulder.

“Stop parading around like a little slut. You are nothing.” Simone reads the message out loud, and I clear my throat and grab my cell phone back.

“You know what? Tonight is about shaking off the bad vibes and having fun, so let’s forget about this stupid thing and enjoy ourselves,” I say, throwing my phone back into my bag and sitting forward with my glass raised high. “To a fun girls’ night.” I say, waiting for the girls to clink glasses.

“To a fun girls’ night,” they all say in unison, and we down our champagne and move on.

“You need to find a man…” Simone gives me a mischievous look.

“What are you talking about?” I frown at her, questioning what she is getting at.

“Well, if you do go through with your father’s request, then you need to have one last hurrah,” she says with a grin.

“I do not.” I laugh, swatting her idea away with my hand. I had a bit of fun in college and have been on a few dates, but my love life is nonexistent. It just doesn’t seem to click for me.

“It has been a long time since you went on a date, so we are all wondering what is going on. If you appease your father, you need to get a few more notches on your bedpost before you have no more choice in life.” Chelsea stares at me accusingly, and I ignore the fear churning in my stomach.

“I went on a date a few weeks ago,” I tell them, and they all look at me as though I am crazy.

“It was months ago. That guy from the bank,” Simone says.

“Wasn’t he a lawyer?” Chloe asks, confused.

“No, it was the doctor, wasn’t it?” Chelsea says, all three of them glancing at each other, then at me, for clarification.

“It was Charles, the accountant,” I tell them, taking another sip of champagne. My dating history is so bland, I am in jeopardy of becoming stale. Maybe an arranged marriage is a good thing, after all.

“The accountant…” Chloe says, smiling and nodding before all three of my best friends crack up laughing at me.

“Clearly, I am just not a good catch!” I say with a groan, thinking back to that disaster of a date, where Charles didn’t realize that the sauce on his steak had seafood in it and his face blew up like a balloon due to an allergic reaction.

“Not a catch of the day on that date anyway!” Simone jokes, and all four of us need to hold our stomachs, laughing at her poor attempt at a joke. At least my friends help me laugh at myself.

“Oh no…” Simone says, looking at her cell.

“What?” all three of us ask.

“Society News. Someone has told them you are here. Now you are trending on social media and so is this club,” she says, and I sigh. I can’t say I am surprised that Baltimore”s society gossip website has news on my whereabouts. They often run an article about the who’s who and where everyone is on the weekend. But I didn’t think they would find me here. And I didn’t think they would have something up so soon. We literally only arrived an hour or so ago, so I know a member of the public is no doubt being their source for their story.

“I am seriously not that interesting. I don’t know why they would put me in a story.” I cringe on the inside. My father isn’t going to be happy to see that spread all over the gossip news.

“But you are a Van Cleef!” Chloe says proudly.

“I am beginning to see that name as more of a curse the older I get.”

“Ladies… Good evening. Welcome to Club Vine,” a man greets, walking up to us wearing a suit, his hair slicked back, full of confidence.

“Thank you,” Simone speaks up for us all, and I see his smile widen when looking at her. Interesting.

“My name is Jimmy. I own Club Vine, and I wanted to say hello and welcome you all tonight,” he says, his smile wide, eyes flicking over us before settling back on Simone.

“I’m Simone,” my friend almost purrs, and my eyes widen. Are they eye fucking each other at the table? She extends her hand, and he shakes it.

“Chloe,” Chloe says swiftly, extending her hand as well.

“I’m Chelsea.” She follows the others, then his eyes land on me.

“Thank you, I’m—” I start, but he cuts me off.

“Valerie Van Cleef. Everyone knows who you are. Thank you for the article in Society News tonight; it has made a huge difference to our attendance already.” His appreciation takes me by surprise, and I look over the edge of the top floor onto the dance floor below and see that it is now packed, with bodies everywhere.

“Of course. No problem,” I tell him, shaking his hand, not disclosing that I had absolutely nothing to do with that article and don’t endorse it at all. But if it has made a positive difference to his business, then I guess that is okay.

“Well, I will let you enjoy your evening. Please take my card and call me should you need anything.” Handing us each a card, he steps away and walks out the back.

“He seemed nice,” I say, looking at Simone.

“Hmmmm, Simone, you seemed to like him?” Chloe teases.

“There are a lot of good-looking men in here tonight. Jimmy just moved to top spot for me, though,” Simone says with a grin.

“I’m going to the bar. I think a round of cocktails is in order.” Standing, I grab my bag.

“Hell yes, good idea!” Simone cheers as she finishes her champagne, and I smile at her as I head over to the bar.

Here in the VIP lounge, it is a little less crowded, and I get my order in for four margaritas quickly. I look around the space. It is nice and new, the lounges are plush, the music is pumping, and although it’s not really my taste, I appreciate it all the same.

“Four cocktails, on the house,” the barman says as he places the drinks on the bar in front of me, and I raise my eyebrows.

“I’m okay to pay.” I don’t want anyone to think I expect freebies.

“Nope, a table of pretty ladies needs free cocktails. It is written in the bar rule book,” he says, smiling and giving me a wink. I plaster a well-practiced fake smile on my face. Clearly, he is flirting. He is an attractive guy, seems friendly, and I think about what Simone just said, about having one last hurrah. But I’ve never had a one-night stand before or even a sexual fling. All my interactions have been dinner dates. Three of them, usually, before lackluster sex in a bed, which is usually missionary style, with a fake orgasm from me, which turns into a month of dating, mostly being seen at charity functions and the like, before I want to deliberately put my finger in an electrical outlet out of boredom.

“Well, thank you. I appreciate it,” I say with grace and internally cringe. I am a smart, successful woman, blessed with thick shiny hair and good genes, but my flirting repertoire is woeful. Giving him another small smile, I decide to get out of here before I embarrass myself. I grab the tray of drinks, managing to pull it from the bar without spilling a drop. I turn to take a step just as the tray slams into a hard body walking by. The lights are low, the music loud, but I am wide-eyed as I watch the drinks spilling onto a large man like they are moving in slow motion. The glasses crash onto the floor at our feet and the tray falls from my hands as I stand there stock-still.

“What the fuck?” A growl comes from the tall mass of a man looming above me, and I gasp. It feels like I look up forever until I see his dark eyes. This guy is huge, angry, tall, tattooed, scary like no one I have ever seen before.

“Oh, I am so sorr—” I start to say.

“Don’t you watch where you are going?” he spits out, running his hand down his front, trying to wipe away the four margaritas that now adorn his shirt. His attitude pulls me from my stupor, if only slightly.

“I didn’t see you. You came out of nowhere,” I tell him as I grab some napkins from the bar behind me.

“Too busy making eyes at the barman,” I hear him seethe perfectly over the loud music.

“I was not making eyes,” I tell him, affronted, as I start to brush the napkins across the front of his shirt. My hand hitting his solid body has me sucking in a deep breath on impact. He is hard as a rock, and I have no idea what I am doing. He could be dangerous. Deadly. His deep scowl and his muscular, tattooed arms certainly scream danger. My heart rate skyrockets as he moves fast, his hand grabbing my wrist and holding my hand against his chest. When his eyes meet mine, I forget to breathe as I look at him. His hair is as dark as his eyes and cut short, his black jeans hug his thick thighs, and his black shirt is opened a little at the neck, now wet, and showing me more tattoos on his chest, no bare skin in sight. His hold is firm, but not too tight. And I can’t help but notice how the skin of his hands is rough, like they are hardworking hands, and nothing like the soft hands of the many suited men that I shake at work constantly. No, his are large and strong and encompass mine with ease. I swallow audibly, my mouth dry.

“Have you had too much to drink?” he asks, the heavy scowl on his face making me match it. My eyes flick to the lanyard around his neck, noting he’s one of the security guards. You would think they’d have better customer service than this.

“I’ve had one drink!” I spit out. Who the hell does this guy think he is?

“Maybe that’s all it takes you. I think I need to show you the door.” My hackles rise. Yet another man trying to tell me what to do.

“Maybe you need to find your manners.” Not scared of him, I step forward, glaring up at him. I am so sick of men bossing me around.

“I have five more hours tonight and no change of clothes. Fuck manners.” Nostrils flaring, his hold on my wrist remains as we now stand chest to chest.

“If you opened your eyes, you wouldn’t run into a tray full of drinks,” I argue. We are both clearly ready for a fight.

“If you rich chicks got your head out of your asses long enough to know other people existed in this world, you would be more careful,” he seethes.

“Rich chicks?Seriously?” I ask, mocking him.

“Are you offering to sweep up this mess?” He eyes me, trying to prove a point, and I wonder why he has such a chip on his shoulder.

“Let me just get the broom that is stuck up your ass and maybe I will.” My eyebrow quirks just as his jaw pops.

“Let me help you with this…” Catching on to what’s transpiring, the barman walks to my side.

“Fuck off, Mickey,” the security guy snaps, proving his issue isn’t only with me. The barman does exactly what he is asked to do, scurrying off as quickly as he came, seemingly scared of this guy, and he should be, he is downright frightening… yet my limbs don’t shake. I feel perfectly safe. When his eyes don’t waver from mine, I think he is trying to intimidate me, but it isn’t working. I work in corporate America; I deal with slimebags every day.

“Do you speak like that to all your colleagues?” I snide before I lick my lips, trying to bring moisture to my mouth. His eyes flick down, watching the movement before looking at my eyes again.

“Ahhhh, everything alright here?” Chloe asks, coming up to my side. Only, neither of us breaks eye contact for long seconds.

“No, your friend here is out.” My mouth falls open. Is he seriously kicking me out of a club?

“You can’t be serious!” I almost screech in disbelief.

“Deadly. Let’s go.” With his hand still holding mine, he takes a few steps toward the back stairs.

“Wait. What?” Chloe tries to stop him, looking between us, completely bewildered.

“She has had too much to drink. Can’t handle her liquor,” he says as he starts pulling me along, and I nearly stumble in my Jimmy Choos.

“Wait! Stop! Have you lost your goddamn mind?” I hiss at him, trying to pull my hand away from his chest where it remains in his grip tight.

“If you don’t come along willingly, I will carry you out,” he deadpans, and my eyes widen before they narrow in challenge.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“I warned you.” Moving fast, his hands encase my waist, and he hoists me up, plastering me to his body like I weigh nothing.

“Arghhh! Put me down, you idiot!” I’m acutely aware that people are looking, never having been this embarrassed in my entire life.

“As soon as you are outside,” he grits out as he starts to descend the stairs. His hands are wrapped tight around my middle, and the warmth that flows through my body is instant. I don’t think a man has ever picked me up before.

“What! Stop!” I hear my friends following, but I can barely see them over his shoulders.

“At least take me out the back where no one can see me,” I hiss into his ear so he hears me over the music as we reach the dance floor. I am thankful it is crowded and too busy for anyone to really notice us as he walks around the perimeter with ease.

“Babe, I’m calling to get the car!” I hear Simone yell, the three of them right behind us.

“You will go out the front like everyone else,” he growls, not even giving me the courtesy of turning his head to look at me when he speaks to me.

“I cannot believe this,” I mutter to myself, my anger rising. I don’t bother kicking or punching him because there is no point. This guy is a brick wall with a personality to match. There is no fighting him.

“Here,” he says once he pushes us through a door and plonks me on my feet in the front foyer.

“Oh, thank God!” Chelsea says dramatically behind me.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?” Chloe says to him, her hands firmly planted on her hips, but he doesn’t flinch. His eyes don’t even move from where they now stare at my face. With his arms crossed against his chest, he stands tall, looking down his nose at me.

“Watch your step, ladies. I wouldn’t want you to trip on your way out,” he says sarcastically, his eyes burning into mine.

“Now you are chivalrous,” I quip back to him, biting my tongue so hard it stings.

“Car is here, let’s get out of here before cameras catch anything,” Simone whispers to me, and I see the big guy”s eye twitch a little, registering the words, but they still don’t leave mine.

“Are you alright?” Chelsea grabs my hand as I turn to leave, breaking our stare and walking with her to the car. Our driver has the back door open, and I see a few people in the crowded line watching. Some already have their cell phone cameras out, and I internally cringe, wondering what they have captured. We all remain tight-lipped until the car door closes and we pull away from the curb.

“That was intense,” Simone says, looking at all of us with wide eyes.

“I accidentally spilled drinks on him. I apologized, but he had an attitude,” I explain, while swallowing down my adrenaline and trying to get my racing heart under control.

“He has got something…” Simone murmurs, looking out the rear window. I don’t dare turn around. I still feel his eyes on me.

“That was the hottest thing I have ever seen,” Chelsea admits, biting her lip. “He is so into you.”

“He was sooo not. He is infuriating. He just kicked me out of a club for doing nothing!” I have never been manhandled like that before in my life. No man has ever picked me up before. But as furious as I am, it was… kind of hot.

“And if he didn’t, he would have totally fucked you in the middle of the VIP lounge,” Simone says, then they all burst into laughter, and I roll my eyes.

“Society News is going to have a field day over this.” I’m already thinking about what my father is going to say.

“Probably. But you are going to be old and married soon, so maybe it is time you listen to me and live a little?” Simone raises an eyebrow.

“If my father lets me live after this, anything is possible,” I tell her with a moan. How do I get myself out of this mess?