Stuck with Mr. Billionaire

CHAPTER ONE

NATHAN

Shakespeare once said, ‘Be not afraid of greatness, for some are born great and some have greatness thrust upon them.’ It’s a quote from his play called the Twelfth Night and it’s always resonated with me. Greatness isn’t something to be feared. The lengths people go to achieve it is though.

The human need to make something of their pathetic existence. The fight to be worthy of their lives. It’s amusing watching that fight. But at least they have something worth fighting for. At least they’re going about it the right way. If you can’t achieve greatness the least you can do is accept your mediocrity. But that’s a hard pill to swallow for most people. It was a hard pill to swallow for my father.

Unfortunately for him, I became all that he ever tried to achieve. I’ve never had to fight for greatness. I was born with it.

***

My jaw ticks as I glance at the watch on my wrist. I should have left here thirty minutes ago, but of course something had to come up, effectively derailing my plans. And I really hate it when that happens.

I sit at the long, polished conference table, the glare of the overhead lights reflecting off ever surface. The latest portfolio numbers flash on my tablet, and my jaw tightens. The Atlantic investment is hemorrhaging funds, and I’m not here to sugarcoat failure.

I lean forward, fixing my team with an unwavering stare.

“We’re bleeding money in the Atlantic account,” I say, my voice even but razor sharp.

The room falls silent. I can practically feel the collective tightening in their chests. I don’t wait for any excuses.

“I want to hear as many solutions as possible. Not speculations, no need to point out where it all went wrong. I just want facts and solutions.”

A junior analyst fumbles with his notes, glancing nervously at his colleagues. I push a stray lock of hair behind my ear and tap the screen, dismissing the alarm that’s signaling that I don’t have much time or any time at all. Every moment of my life is usually scheduled to a T. But I can’t schedule problems that could arise in a business environment where it seems everyone I’m surrounded with is completely inefficient at their jobs.

“Sir, permit me to say,” the Senior Portfolio manager starts. He’s a man in his forties, usually adequate at his job which is the reason he holds the position in the first place, “There’s no way we could have predicted a drop in the market like that. The volatility-”

I cut him off, “I said I didn’t want excuses and I sure as hell don’t need you pointing out what went wrong. I know what went wrong. Every single person in this room knows what went wrong. The stocks are dropping rapidly which means we’re about to have a very unhappy client who made this investment on our advice. Which also means, the company’s about to take a major hit. I want solutions, surely there’s been plans made in the event of an event like this.”

They scramble to compile data, their fear palpable. I run a hand through my hair, gritting my teeth. It’s pretty obvious we’re not getting anywhere, so I push my chair back, the sound echoing in the large conference room. I affix a hard stare on the Chief Investment Officer as I re-arrange the tie around my neck.

If we want to start pointing fingers, I’d start with him.

“Monroe, you and Sharpe will meet with the people from Atlantic to figure out a way out and our next possible plan of action. The rest of you will work on trying to salvage this mess and keep the news from getting out. We’re meant to be the best in the business everyone, a mistake like this can’t happen again. Are we clear?”

There’s a couple nods, murmurs of understanding.

“Good,” I state, “I’m heading out of the city. I’ll be back this evening. By then I expect things to be more settled.”

“Have a safe trip, sir,” Callie Sharpe says with a smile that shows all her teeth.

I barely glance at her before exiting the room. My car’s already waiting for me in front of the building when I step outside. The valet steps forward to hand me the car and I offer him a short nod before promptly sliding into the driver’s seat.

Right before I start the car, the sharp ringing of my phone cut through the air. I pull it out and a quick glance at the screen has me groaning.

“Yeah, I’m not dealing with this right now,” I mutter.

I toss the phone on to the seat beside me, ignoring my father’s call before starting my journey. Edenton’s a two hour drive away from the city and I’m already late for the wedding I have to attend. My father and his opinions are the last thing I need at the moment.

The drive goes by fast and is fairly calm until I arrive in the small town. I grew up in Edenton. My formative years were all spent here. The small town has its own charm with its aged brick storefronts, the old clock tower still chiming on the hour and the tree-lined avenues bathed in soft afternoon light. It feels almost picturesque. Perfect even.

But every corner of this town hits me like a dark shadow, strangling me. Each familiar landmark is a testament to a past I’d rather forget. But the past has a way of catching up to you and I’ve never been one to run from pain.

I arrive at the church where the wedding is taking place an hour after the ceremony was slated to begin. It’s incredibly inconvenient and a part of me wonders if I should just skip it all together and head straight for the reception. It feels rude though.

I push open the heavy wooden doors of the cathedral, the creak echoing through the high, vaulted ceiling. Immediately, eyes shift in my direction and I curse silent. I don’t want their fucking attention. The priest’s booming voice barely registers in my head as I scan the room for a seat. There’s some murmurs as I make my way down the aisle, each step measured and deliberate. I settle into a row in the back, careful to keep my face blank and my posture impeccable, despite the turmoil of annoyance simmering beneath the surface.

Most of these people don’t even know me. But they know of me. Different variations of my supposed persona. Stories they believe to be true of my past. And now my appearance has pushed it all to the forefront of their minds.

I blame Sterling fucking Harrington and his insistence that I be at his wedding. Fuck knows why. I haven’t seen the man in years. Although we’ve always orbited the same circuits. Both of us heirs to multi-million dollar companies. The difference is unlike our, the Harrington name has always been a staple in Edenton. They’ve made laudable contributions to the town. Meanwhile, we left this town behind nearly twenty years ago and never looked back.

Harrington’s standing at the altar now in front of his wife to be. He’s practically beaming as he gazes at her veil covered face. I don’t know much about them, except that her name is Emilia Cameron, another staple household name in the town. Emilia’s unfamiliar to me however. Hell, most people are unfamiliar to me in this town but Emilia especially didn’t live here in Edenton back when I was around.

It seems she’s found love in her time here though. And with Sterling Harrington nonetheless. I wish them all the best, although I don’t understand it.

Choosing forever with another human being that could very well turn on you in the twinkle of an eye is one of the greatest mysteries to me. Overpowering love like that causes nothing but overpowering pain.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride,” the priest announces.

Harrington goes for it, lifting the veil and kissing his wife in a ‘get a room’ kind of way. They separate to the sound of claps and jubilation from the congregation, the both of them smiling widely.

“Cute,” I say under my breath.

The ceremony ends and the crowd moves outside following the happy couple. Having nothing else to do and no one to socialize with, I head over to the parking lot. I might as well just get to the hotel where the reception’s being held early, say my congratulations and head out.

It’s a ten minute drive there. The hotel’s huge, lavish and the venue which is a tastefully decorated ballroom, is nothing if not befitting to Harrington name and all the influence it acquires. I settle in a corner to wait for more guests to arrive.

Their arrival comes with unwanted attention however. I force a small smile on my face as a middle aged woman approaches.

“You’re Benson’s boy, right? Nathan?” she asks. “Oh look at how you’ve grown. We haven’t seen you in ages.”

Like they’re a pack, two other women appear. In the back of my mind I recognize them as women I grew up seeing around town.

“Oh you are aren’t you?” one of the other women with a short blonde bob says, “It’s been so long.”

They just said the same thing in different variations. I decide to speak up before the third woman can add her own similar cent.

“Yes, how have you been ladies? You look radiant as ever,” I say cranking up the charm as best as I can. The best way to throw them off is to compliment them. “I’d love to stay and catch up but I have somewhere to be. If you’ll excuse me.”

“Wait, Nathan,” the first lady whose last name I just remembered is Mrs. Hatcher. “At least tell us how you’ve been coping all this while. It’s such a tragedy, what happened to your mother.”

The smile on my face drops at the speed of light and I feel my features tighten. The women offer me sympathetic looks that I do not care for and could not give a fuck about.

“Yes, it was,” I say icily. “I’m going to leave.”

She’s about to speak again but I don’t give her a chance to as I swiftly walk away. Just in time for Sterling Harrington and his wife to arrive. I reach time right before their well-wishers do, unable to force a smile as I stand in front of a man I guess I could aptly describe as an old friend.

“Wolfe,” he exclaims with a pleasant smile. “You made it.”

I offer him a one sided bro hug before offering his wife beside him a small forced smile. She’s changed out of her wedding dress and is in a shorter bejeweled outfit, also white. She’s beautiful with long shiny blonde hair and blue eyes.

“Yes. You made sure I would, considering the constant emails requesting I RSVP and the reminders I got leading up to the wedding,” I say drolly. “Congratulations though. To you both.”

“Thanks,” Harrington smirks. “And I wouldn’t have been so insistent if I didn’t know what a recluse you were. I appreciate you coming. Enjoying the party?”

“It’s alright,” I shrug. “I just wanted to wish you well and I hope you have a happy married life.”

Harrington’s green eyes narrow, “Hold up. Before you leave, there’s someone you should meet. Angel, can you go get Carson please?” he asks looking down at his wife.

“Of course,” Mrs. Harrington replies. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Wolfe.”

I offer her a short nod of acknowledgement and she walks away. Two minutes later, Sterling and I are joined by his other, other half. I remember he and Carson Cameron used to be joined together at the hip when they were kids.

I clear my throat at his arrival, wondering what they’re up to.

“Cameron,” I greet.

“Wolfe,” he replies, blue eyes startlingly similar to his sisters, meeting mine. “It’s good to see you.”

“Sure. So what’s going on?” I ask impatiently.

Harrington’s the one to reply, “So I’m really glad you came to the wedding, but this was also a chance to get you to talk business in a more natural setting.”

I cock an eyebrow, “A natural business setting would be in an office building not a wedding.”

“He makes a good point,” Carson says on a laugh.

“You wouldn’t have agreed to a meeting if you’d known what the agenda was,” Sterling states, piquing my interest. “Sorry to ambush you, plus this is the last thing I want to be doing at my wedding to be honest, but we figured you’d be our best option.”

“You did?” I drawl.

“Technically, I did,” Carson interjects. “My company, Carson Financials, is hoping to start a new project. Something noteworthy here in Edenton. I’d been hoping to find a business partner and investor in Harrington holdings but Sterling’s moving to New York permanently soon. Your company’s based in Raleigh, two hours away. Also, Edenton’s your hometown as well, so we’d been hoping you’d have an interest in collaborating with me on doing something nice for the community.”

I take in his words with an uninterested frown.

“Nice speech. But the big question is why would I want to do anything nice for this town?” I question, scowling. “I haven’t stepped foot here in years.”

“We were hoping you’d feel fonder towards Edenton with your return,” Sterling states, green eyes studying me intently.

“Well you hoped wrong. If anything this little visit has reminded me why I’ve stayed far away all this time. Thanks for the offer, Cameron, but I’m going to have to say no.”

Both men are decidedly unhappy with that reply.

“You’re not even going to consider it for more than five minutes?” Carson questions.

“No. I’m good, thanks,” I reply. “Congratulations again on your wedding, Harrington. I’ll see you around, yeah?”

“Yeah sure. Thanks for coming,” he says, recovering quickly and offering me a smile. “Sorry again for the ambush.”

“It’s fine.”

Actually it’s not fine and I don’t appreciate it. But their hearts were in the right place I guess. Now all I want to do is get the hell out of here. After shaking the hands of both men, I get the chance to, walking out of the stifling ballroom. Only for me to run right into the middle of an argument.

A few feet from the ballroom door, a man and a woman are standing opposite each other.

“Please, Edward.”

Her voice is soft, and yet you can hear the undertones of anger. Almost like she’s repressing it. She’s pissed but she’s trying not to let it show. He doesn’t seem to be affording her that grace however. I pause, leaning against the wall behind me and deciding to watch.

“I said no already. Would you please give me a fucking break?” he snaps, blue eyes practically bulging out of his face.

He’s a typical gangly man that looks stuck in the awkward teenage face. He has dark hair, almost as long as mine, extending past his ears. Except his hair is unkempt, messy in a way I’ve found some women tend to be attracted to for some inane reason.

“Edward, you can’t just leave in the middle of my sister’s wedding.”

“I was already at the wedding. The ceremony at the church already took two boring hours off my life!”

My lips tilt up in a small smirk. I can’t lie, the guy’s kind of right. Two hours is plenty of time to spend at a wedding.

“You’re my boyfriend and my date. How do you think it’s going to look if you just leave?” she asks, frustration building in her tone.

“I don’t care. I’m already late for practice with the guys,” he retorts.

“Edward, please!”

“For the love of God! I’m getting sick and tired of this. It’s always do this, Edward, do this. You’re driving me crazy, Ani. You’re suffocating me. How about you find something to fill that emptiness inside of you instead of trying to use me as a fucking replacement? I’m so sick of it, okay. I’m sick of you.”

Those words are met with resounding silence and shock. She blinks, her big brown widening.

“Edward,” she breathes.

Seriously? He says all that shit and all she can do is whisper his name?

“I’m leaving, Ani. And we’re over okay? I can’t do this shit anymore.”

The guy storms off and she’s left alone in the hallway. This should be the moment where I walk away and pretend I heard none of that. But for some reason I’m intrigued.

“Well that was pathetic,” I say, my voice carrying in the silent hallway.

I meant for her to hear it and she does, loud and clear. She turns, doe eyes landing on me, surprise coloring her face.

“Excuse me?” she asks.

I walk up to her, my footsteps resounding until I stop. The smell of her perfume immediately wafts over me. Flowers, lilies. I hate what it reminds me of. And I blame the god awful day I’ve had for everything I’m about to say.

“You heard me. That was pathetic. You’re too beautiful to have someone talking to you that way.”

Her lips part. Cherry red lips that I immediately want to smear. Her face is somehow too perfect. Like someone painted it so. Dainty nose, full lips, big brown eyes. Dangerous. So very fucking dangerous.

“Who the hell are you?” she says with a snarl.

I smirk, “Where was that fire when he was talking to you that way?”

“Could you please mind your own business?”

“You had the conversation in a public hallway where anyone could have heard it, sweetheart. How about I give you some advice?”

“Unsolicited and unnecessary,” she snaps.

I continue like she didn’t say anything, “He’s walking all over you because you give him the power to-”

“Shut up,” she grits out.

“And you need to wake up,” I retort. “You’re not a little girl, you’re a grown woman that needs to stop acting so pathetic.”

Her brown eyes are nearly bulging with anger and shock. I imagine she’s completely thrown off by the fact that a complete stranger is saying all this to her. I just figured she needed a wakeup call. And in my experience, those usually need to be jarring in order to work.

“What the hell is wrong with you? You can’t talk to me like that. Ever heard of manners?”

“Sure, ever heard of growing a backbone?”

Her eyes narrow.

“You probably won’t ever need to see me again. I just thought I’d lend you a hand, seemed like you needed it.”

She glares, “Fuck you, asshole.”

And then she’s walking away. I watch as she does, her heels clacking against the floors almost rhythmically. Her walk is entrancing somehow, filled with a confidence I sure as hell didn’t see earlier. I stare until she’s out of sight, pushing open the ballroom doors without a glance back at me.

Once she’s gone, I let out a small sigh.

I hate this fucking town.