Until (How to Break a Billionaire’s Heart #1-3)

1. Carina

CHAPTER 1

Carina

" M iss Cameron. Miss Cameron.”

The voice saying my name is familiar but distant as if I’m dreaming.

"Carina Cameron. Wake up!” I force my eyes open and blink at the harsh lights in the hospital waiting room. Standing in front of me is a nurse with gray streaks through her dark brown hair. She’s dressed in blue scrubs with the name Annie on the ID badge she’s wearing around her neck. I sit up and rub the sleep from my eyes.

"I'm sorry to wake you, sweetie," she says. "But you wanted to know when your grandmother is out of surgery. She's in recovery right now. The surgery went well, but she’s still going to be groggy for another couple of hours. Why don’t you go home and get some rest? Have you eaten? You could go downstairs to the cafeteria and grab a bite."

I spring to my feet upon hearing the word cafeteria. It’s another word for restaurant, and that is where I’m supposed to be. I check my watch and sure enough, I’m late.

"Thank you so much for letting me know about my grandmother. I’ll be back later. I have to get to work."

Previously I had told my boss that I might be a little late for work because of the surgery. But I never expected to be almost an hour late. Antonio, the manager, has been very patient with all of my recent struggles and has even given me extra hours when I really needed them. He has helped me so much that I really don’t want to upset him.

With my jacket wrapped around me, I pull my long wavy blonde hair back into a ponytail and exit the hospital as quickly as possible. Living in New York City I’m used to taking the subway or just walking. Today is one of those days where I run. I need to get to work as soon as possible.

I’ve been working at John’s Bar and Grille since I graduated high school seven years ago. Everyone knows John’s. People sometimes travel just to say they’ve eaten there. It’s a good place to work because it’s always busy.

As I enter the restaurant’s back door, I grab a black apron off the hook and tie it around my waist. I peek out of the small window in the swing door that separates the kitchen from the dining room.

John’s is in a former theater, and some remnants of the old theater remain. The dining room has two levels with tables, with the second floor wrapping around the outside of the first. In the center is the original chandelier that hung during the theater’s heyday.

There aren’t many people seated yet, but that changes quickly in New York City. Luckily it’s still early, and the dinner rush hasn’t started yet. Dressed in the same black pants, white button-down shirt, and black apron I have on, my friend Odessa is taking care of the few tables that are ready to order.

She enters the kitchen, bumping the door open with her wide hip.

"Look who decided to finally show up," she says. Her caramel-colored hair is pulled back from her face. As she laughs, her almond-shaped eyes close, and her body shakes. “How’s Lydia? She had the second surgery today, right?”

“Yes, and she’s good,” I say, breathing a sigh of relief. “I didn’t get to talk with the doctor, but the nurse came out after surgery to let me know she’s in recovery.”

“There you are,” Antonio says as he enters the kitchen. “We need to talk.”

His voice sounds serious which worries me. It’s not like him.

"Listen, Antonio, just let me start by saying I'm sorry, I know I'm late. I know I said I might be a little late but this is much later than I expected."

"Please stop, Carina. We’ll talk about everything in my office."

As we enter his office he motions to the seat in front of his desk. In all the years I had worked there I had never been to his office before. And I could only remember two other people who had. Both got fired.

“Are you firing me? I know I was late, but?—”

“No buts, this isn’t about your lateness. I am sorry though, I do need to fire you. I hate that they’re making me do this.”

“Who is?”

“Corporate. The man who owns John’s.”

“You mean it’s not John?”

Antonio grins from ear to ear.

“Sometimes I forget how out of touch you are with the rest of the world,” he says.

Antonio sighs deeply as he leans back in the squeaky office chair. "I know you're going through a really rough time right now, Carina, and you're one of my best waitstaff. You’ve worked here for years. If it was up to me, this wouldn’t happen, but I have to let you go."

“No, don't say that. Maybe there was a misunderstanding. Maybe he didn’t say to fire me. You know everything that's going on with my grandmother. She's my entire world, and she had an aneurysm and needed surgery. You can't do this to me. I need this job so I can take care of her.”

My eyes fill with tears that I try to blink back, but the blinking only sets them free. I reach across the desk for Antonio's arm, ignoring the huge tears that are streaming down my face. I need to change his mind somehow.

"Please stop. I hate tears,” he says as he pulls his arm away and grabs a box of tissues from the bottom desk drawer. "I know it doesn't matter, but this wasn’t my choice. It doesn't even have anything to do with your being late today. That's just a coincidence. Mr. Winterbourne is scaling back, and because you've been here for so long you have the highest hourly rate. He said we need to let you go."

"Then lower my pay. Please, Antonio, I need this job.”

He shakes his head sadly.

“I can’t. I’ve heard this is happening throughout the company, at multiple restaurants. It’s not just here. It’s not just you. My hands are tied, Carina. No one ever disagrees with Alex Winterbourne.”

“Who?”

“Alex Winterbourne. C’mon. Are you serious? You’ve never heard of him?”

“No. Should I know his name?” I ask.

“Everyone knows his name. You must be living under a rock.”

“I guess so. Maybe I can convince him to let me keep my job.”

“You can do better than this job, Carina. Better than just waiting tables. You’ll have a glowing reference from me whenever you need it.” He smiles at me, but his smile quickly fades as more tears roll down my cheeks. “I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll let you work your shift tonight as planned. I know you can use the money.”

I yank a tissue out of the box and dry my eyes. I open my mouth to thank him, but only a squeak comes out.

This job is perfect. It’s flexible, it’s only blocks away from the hospital, and our tiny apartment. I need to stay close in case my grandmother ever needs me. All we have is each other.

I take a deep breath as I collect myself. This is just a bump in the road, something better is just around the corner. I have to believe that.

After cleaning up, Odessa and I grab our coats, then walk out the back door, and towards the street.

“I can’t believe tonight is it for you,” she says.

“I know. I’m going to miss this place.”

“You want a ride home? It’s chilly, and you know someone with your pale complexion shouldn’t be out here by herself. You practically glow in the dark.”

“Thanks a lot.” I laugh. “It’s only a few blocks, and I could use some fresh air.”

“Alrighty then, sis. Call me tomorrow.”

I wave to her as she drives past. The small morning hours are my favorite time in the city. There’s a stillness that doesn’t exist during the day. It makes me feel special and connected to the city in a way I don’t feel during the day when it’s crowded. I take in a deep breath and then huff it out to watch the air from my mouth turn to steam. It’s the perfect time to be alone with my thoughts.

Headlights come from behind me. I don’t turn toward them, I ignore them. If my time growing up in the city has taught me anything it’s to keep my eyes facing forward and to just keep walking.

A black limousine pulls up at the curb ahead of me. The rear window slides down. Out of the corner of my eye, a man in his mid-40s with a slender face, round tortoise-shell framed glasses, and dark wavy hair slicked back leans forward in his seat.

"A woman shouldn't be walking through this part of town alone," he says. “Get in. I'll give you a lift."

He pushes open his door, then leans back in his seat as if he has no thought to the fact that I might say no.

I keep my eyes focused ahead and keep walking.

The car inches forward, keeping pace with me.

"Carina, don't you recognize me?" he asks.

Hearing my name, I stop walking and finally turn to look at the man. He’s vaguely familiar but I see so many people from working at the restaurant, that he can be anyone.

"I don't need a ride," I say before I continue walking.

"Now don't be ridiculous. Get in. I'd like to talk to you. It's the least you can let me do after firing you."

Slowly, I come to a halt as recognition of who he is hits me. In the kitchen area, on the wall next to the doors to the dining room hangs a picture of the owner of John’s Bar and Grille, Alexander Winterbourne.

It’s there so we recognize him if he ever comes in. In all the years I have worked there I never once saw him.

So why is he here now?

"So you fire me and now all you want to offer me is a ride home? That doesn’t seem like a fair deal.”

"It's the least I can do”. He smirks like the cat who ate the canary. “Plus, I want to talk to you."

"Talk? The only thing I have to talk to you about is getting my job back. You gave Antonio a bullshit reason for firing me. I'm a waitress, I don't make too much money."

I start walking again, more determined to get away from him and get home than ever. I need to be up early tomorrow to see my grandmother, and then start looking for a job. We don’t have any savings. And lately, things have gotten so bad with all of her medical bills that I’m barely making ends meet.

The car door opens. Mr. Winterbourne steps out and quickly catches up to me. He’s thin and tall in a fitted navy blue three-piece suit. His shoes click on the uneven sidewalk as he matches my pace. Everything about him spells money.

“If you won't let me drive you home, then I'll just have to walk you home."

I stop and turn to him, the feeling of angry heat rising from my neck and into my cheeks.

“What is your problem? My grandmother is in the hospital, and I just lost my job! Which was the only way I was even paying rent. We have no savings, no family to bail us out, nothing. So what do you think is going to happen now that I don’t have a job? Did you ever think that maybe I just want to be alone?"

“Carina, really,” he says, still smirking. “You think I don't know that? Why do you think I'm here? I'm a very busy man, and I wouldn't be here if I didn't think we could help each other out. So while you're upset right now, and rightly so, I think you should give me a few minutes of your time.” He pauses as he gauges my reaction. “You probably look at me and think I’ve had it easy my whole life. I haven’t. I know what it's like to lose everything. I know what it’s like to not know where your next meal is coming from. But I’m not here to talk about me. Let's just say I'm here to be your fairy godfather."

"My fairy godfather? Great, so not only are you an asshole, but you're crazy on top of it all? Figures. I've heard all you rich people have a few screws loose. Probably the smell of all that money goes to your head and damages your brain cells."

"You have every right to hate me for losing your job. I don't have a problem with that. But I do have an offer for you. If you do just one thing for me, one little thing. Something that you might actually enjoy. I’ll give you $20,000 in cash.”

He can’t be serious. As much as I want to keep walking, I stop. He finally has my attention.

"Fine, I'll hear you out. But if this involves anything from your sick, perverse mind, like anything sexual, or something I can't even imagine that someone like you might think of, then I'm out."

He nods. "Fair enough. I promise you it's nothing like that." He turns to the limo that has been following along beside us and opens the back door. He waves his hand with a flourish towards the car. "As you can see there is no privacy shield in this car. Reggie can hear everything we say. He can see everything we do. And you have my word that Reggie will never let anything bad happen to you."

The driver turns to look over his shoulder at me. His curly grey hair peeks out from under a black chauffeur’s cap.

"That is correct, Miss," Reggie says as he tips his hat towards me. His accent is unmistakably British. He smiles and his bright blue eyes twinkle.

"So please, I would appreciate it if you would let me drive you the rest of the way to your apartment. These shoes are not made for walking.” He grins as he points to his expensive brown leather shoes. “All I ask is that you hear me out. And if you're not interested, that's fine. I will set you up with interviews and give you the most glowing recommendations a person could ever get. But right now, I think this is something you should listen to."

We get into the car and Reggie begins to drive. I consider telling Reggie where to go, but I don’t have to. It’s clear to me that Alex knows everything about me. While that worries me, I can’t ignore the possibility of enough money to make my grandmother and I comfortable while I look for a new job.

"So what is this amazing offer you have for me?” I ask.

“You've heard of the Carnival Masquerade Ball, right?”

He leans back against the car seat looking pleased with himself, but I have no idea what he’s talking about. I shake my head.

His jaw drops from surprise before he laughs softly. "I should've expected that. One of the reasons I chose you for this is because you don't seem to care at all about things like that. Our meeting tonight is a perfect example. Most people who meet me fall at my feet. Actually, most people know who I am as soon as I walk into a room.” He nods slowly as he studies me. “I like that about you. It's refreshing. The Carnival Masquerade Ball is the most elegant, famous, in-demand party in town. No one knows who hosts it, but there's been a ball every month for the last three years. I want you to attend."

"Wait. You want me to go to some fancy ball? I didn't even know balls were a real thing.” I think about it for a couple of minutes and decide that I must be misunderstanding him. Why does he want me to go to a ball? Maybe he wants me to work at the ball. “Is this some kind of catering job?"

"No, no, not at all. Like I said, I want you to attend. I don't want you to work there. All I ask is that after you arrive you find the man wearing this mask." He hands me a photograph of an ornate Venetian mask with a deep green base and gold accents. "

"Oh I get it, here comes the kicker. Go ahead and say it. I knew there had to be something bad. Spill.”

"You're too much, Carina." He laughs, showing perfectly straight white teeth. He’s an attractive man, but there is something sinister behind his gaze. "All I'm asking you to do is find the man wearing this mask and dance with him.

"Dance with him? That’s it?”

I can’t believe it. There has to be something more. Maybe dance is some kind of code word in the billionaire world that means something different.

"Yes, just dance with him. Find him and ask him to dance. I suspect that he'll find you first though."

And what makes you think that?" I ask.

“Because like I said, I'm your fairy godfather. I'm going to take you and turn you into the most beautiful woman there."