BILLION DOLLAR DADDY Read online

  “We’re flying,” she says. The pilot laughs again.

  “It’s a good clear day for a flight,” he says. “But the weather can change pretty quick around here. Let’s keep our fingers crossed for an uneventful journey.”

  Jessie glances across at me nervously, knowing that was probably the worst thing the pilot could have said, but as we gain altitude and begin to make our way out over the Nevada landscape, my fear reduces. I focus on the horizon, at the natural beauty that is spread before me like a picture postcard. I focus on the warmth of Jessie’s hand and the never-ending expanse of brilliant blue sky.

  And it’s awesome, in the truest sense of the word. I am in complete and utter awe at what I am seeing.

  At the canyon itself, the pilot follows the line. I haven’t opted to land inside because I was worried I may not be able to face another ascent, but just getting a view across one of nature’s wonders of the world is enough. I hope it’s enough for Jessie.

  She takes her phone out to snap pictures through the window. Then she turns and holds her phone up for a selfie. It’s strange to think that we’ve fucked but never had a photo taken together. If we parted company today, there would be no evidence that we had ever even met in person. She throws her arm around my shoulder and I look at our reflection in the screen. Her smile is so wide that I could never match her exuberance. I smile and it looks forced but she snaps away anyway. Maybe she thinks it’s the nerves when really I’m thinking towards the future. How those photos might be seen by others and what they’ll say about our flight together. The media is a funny thing and when you’re in my position it’s never easy to stay out of the limelight.

  After Corina died, my personal life was everywhere; from advertising me as a new eligible bachelor on the market to speculating on my mental health. The exposure was pretty damn sickening.

  It’s not that I don’t trust Jessie to keep the pictures private. From what I know about her I can’t see her selling them to the highest bidder, but I do know she’s in debt and money worries can drive even the most principled person to step outside their comfort zone.

  I guess, though, that a picture of me looking happy with a beautiful woman isn’t the worst kind of image that could make it into the papers.

  For the next few minutes Jessie and I stare out of the window at the amazing beauty of the canyon and I breathe deeply through it all. I face my fear and I feel stronger. I focus on that strength because there is a time coming when I’m going to need it. I’m going to need to remember these days and the mental barriers I broke.

  When we’re finally back in the car I decide that we should go straight back to the hotel rather than stopping for lunch. I figure we can relax for a while. Maybe I’ll take Jessie to the spa and have them treat her like a princess for the afternoon. She deserves it after putting up with me all morning.

  We make it up to the room and I call down to the concierge to sort out the arrangements. Jessie’s excited about the idea of being pampered but she wants me to go with her. She says it’ll do me good. She’s probably right. Another call to the concierge and I’m booked in too. All the staff at the hotel know that I’m never to be called out as the owner. I’m to be treated the same as the other guests at all times, and that is impeccably.

  “What treatments did you book?” she asks me while we wait for the elevator.

  “A relaxing facial, deep tissue massage, pedicure, manicure and exfoliation.”

  “You think I need a good scrub?” she asks with mock indignation.

  I roll my eyes. “I have no idea what half of that stuff means. I was told what women generally book.”

  “Ah… so is this what you do for all the girls you bring here?” she asks.

  I shake my head. “You’re getting preferential treatment, Jessie. And I don’t bring girls here.”

  Her expression turns to disbelief. “You don’t bring girls here?”

  “Why is that so hard to believe?”

  “Because you’re you,” she says softly.

  “Oh, you think I’m a player do you?”

  Jessie frowns. “Not a player, Ryan. You’re just the full package.”

  “Package?”

  “Yeah… you know. Everything most women want in a man.”

  Maybe that used to be true but not anymore. “What’s that then, Jessie?”

  She puts her hand up and starts folding her fingers as she lists out attributes. “Tall, good-looking, confident, respectful…”

  Her thumb is still unfolded. “Did you forget rich?”

  “Not really,” she says. “Haven’t you realized by now that money isn’t as important as the other things?”

  “Most women are looking for security,” I say. It’s certainly been my experience.

  “Security yes, but that doesn’t just come from having money. A person can have money but use it to control and harm. They can have money but throw it all away and leave you destitute.” Her eyes well a little at that last bit. I put my arm around her and pull her close. “Security is about having a man who stands beside you through good and bad. Who puts you first because he knows that you will do the same for him.”

  I stroke her hair. “So money doesn’t matter to you?” I ask and think about the fifty grand that she has stored in a safe in her room at my house.

  “If I had the choice between a man with money or a man like the one I described, I would choose the man to stand beside me.”

  “But it’s not always an either/or situation.”

  She shrugs. “No. But it is most of the time. Money has a tendency to bring out the worst characteristics in a person.” The elevator arrives and Jessie pulls away, smoothing her hair and taking a deep breath. “Anyway, we should go enjoy treatments,” she says, beaming a full smile that looks plastered on.

  “That’s the idea, Jessie.”

  The elevator takes us down to the spa in the blink of an eye. The receptionist is exceptionally professional and we’re sent to our ‘couples room’ to meet our therapists.

  They start with the facial, then move to the massage. My limbs feel loose and limp, my muscles kneaded and smoothed to perfection. I open my eyes to check on Jessie and catch her looking back at me.

  “Amazing,” she mouths as the therapist uses her elbow to break knots in Jessie’s shoulders. The rounded curve of her ass is so damn tempting but I have to shake those thoughts because this isn’t the time or the place.

  “Enjoy,” I mouth back and close my eyes again.

  When we’ve finished in the treatment rooms, we’re taken in robes to another area for the manicure and pedicure. I feel ridiculous sitting with my feet in hot water but Jessie is having so much fun it’s completely worth it.

  We end up two perfectly relaxed and polished people. Jessie opts for a French manicure so her hands and feet look naturally beautiful. She also has her hair and make-up done too, then as we leave the spa I tell her I’m going to take her for dinner in the hotel. The steakhouse here is amazing. I should know, I chose the head chef myself and pay a fortune to keep him. It’s a pretty relaxed venue with old black and white photos and a mix of booths and traditional tables. We opt for a booth and sit nice and close while we pick from the menu. I convince Jessie we should go for the chateaubriand with asparagus, dauphinoise potatoes and creamed spinach. I order us a good bottle of red and we settle back in our seats.

  “I am having the most amazing vacation,” Jessie says. She touches my arm gently. “It feels crazy that I’m getting to enjoy this with you… with the arrangement and all.”

  “You think I should be feeding you bread and water and keeping you locked in a room?” I joke.

  She punches my arm gently. “Why the extremes, Mr. Gosling? There is a middle ground, you know.”

  I laugh because the middle ground has never been something I’ve aspired to. “I guess there is, Miss Jessie.”

  She sips her wine. “So what death defying adventures are on the plan for tomorrow?”

  Death
defying.

  Her word cut me again even though she doesn’t have a clue what she’s saying.

  “That would be telling,” I say through the lump in my throat.

  A shadow darkens the table and I look up expecting it to be a waiter, but it’s not. It’s someone I really don’t want to be talking to right now.

  “Well, lookie who it is.” Sam Drayton, owner of Drayton’s casino, looms over the table. At six-foot six and built like a tank, he isn’t a man you can easily miss.

  “Sam,” I say, reaching out to shake his hand. I can’t be seen to be rude but I don’t want to be making small talk with him while Jessie’s here.

  “Ryan Crawford,” he says loudly as he pumps my hand. I flinch. That was exactly what I didn’t want him to say. I don’t look to Jessie to see if she’s taken what he’s said in. “What brings you back to Vegas?”

  Sam knows it’s been a long time since I stepped foot in my hotel. This was Corina’s baby and until recently it’s hurt too much to be here.

  “Just taking a little vacation,” I say.

  Sam’s eyes drift to Jessie and he grins.

  “Nice to meet you,” he says, holding out his giant hand for Jessie. She seems to take it reluctantly.

  “This is Jessie,” I say because he’s forcing me to.

  “Very nice.” I see Jessie flinch.

  “So are you in town for long?” I ask him as he reluctantly gives Jessie back her hand.

  He grins a shark smile. “Just long enough.” Well, that’s cryptic. He’s probably seeking out more land for a new casino but none of that concerns me in the slightest. There are no plans to expand the Vegas operation, especially not now.

  “Well, I hope you have a good time,” I say. “It was good to see you.” I’m as dismissive as I can be and I can see Sam notice.

  “I’m sure I will,” he says in his usual arrogant tone.

  As he saunters away I glance across at Jessie and she looks frozen. It’s then that I realize she knows that the hotel and casino we’re staying in is mine.

  She knows but I don’t know how to explain myself.

  I make small talk until the food comes.

  I make small talk during our meal.

  And nothing feels real.

  19

  JESSIE

  Ryan owns this hotel. He owns this casino. He lied about his name for what? So I wouldn’t know who he really is. So I wouldn’t know that he profits from the very thing that has brought me to my knees.

  Oh god. I don’t know what to do. I sit in the restaurant with him and eat this amazing meal that now tastes like cardboard in my mouth. I make small talk with him but my insides are crawling with unpleasant feelings.

  Disappointment.

  I’m not a fool to think that people get as rich as Ryan without stepping on a few toes or doing a few things that are unethical. Most people wouldn’t have a problem with his business at all. I know this. I know that gambling, particularly in Vegas, is a pretty mainstream activity. I know that my personal experiences are making me super sensitive but I can’t change who I am or how my life has affected my views. I can’t decide that I can stay here with Ryan despite this.

  He lied to me.

  I don’t understand why.

  In the beginning maybe he had a reason. I was a stranger. I still am I suppose, although I’ve opened my body and my mind to him in a way I haven’t with anyone apart from my husband. But he had a chance to tell me the truth. When I told him how I felt about gambling and what had happened to me, he had a chance to admit that the suite we are staying in is his personal suite, that the hotel we are vacationing in is his, built on the back of men and women prepared to squander their hard earned cash for a chance at easy money.

  He knows I’m not myself now. I saw him freeze when that huge, rude man called him Crawford in front of me. He had a chance to explain what Sam meant but he hasn’t taken it. He’s talking about the shows that are on in Vegas and what I might like to go and see with him. He’s making plans for a vacation I don’t want to continue.

  I need the money that I’ve stored in his safe but I don’t want to take it now. It feels dirty. It feels like I’m benefiting from other people’s misery and I don’t want to solve my problems that way.

  “The new Cirque du Soleil Michael Jackson show has pretty good reviews,” he says.

  “Yeah, I heard it looks good.” My voice is flat. I sound so totally unenthusiastic that under normal circumstances anyone would ask me what’s wrong but Ryan doesn’t. He knows that if he does he’s going to open a huge can of worms. He knows I’m going to call him out and he doesn’t want to give me that opportunity.

  He’s avoiding the inevitable.

  At the end of the meal he asks me if I want to go to one of the hotel bars for a few drinks but I decline.

  We make our way up in the elevator and all the way the lump in my throat gets worse and worse. In our suite I tell him I need to have a relaxing bath and I lock myself in the bathroom and cry my eyes out.

  I feel so betrayed.

  When I eventually have to face him, I tell him that I have a headache and need an early night.

  His eyes must take in my blotchy face, but again he doesn’t say a word.

  I get into the bed that we’ve shared like a weary old woman. I face the wall and tuck the covers high over my shoulders. Ryan doesn’t join me. He goes to another room in the suite and I hear the distant drone of his voice as he makes calls. I pull out my phone and google Ryan Crawford. I need to know more about him before I make the decision that is lingering at the edge of my mind.

  There are so many pictures of him. Handshaking photos with suited business men. Pictures at charity events. Pictures with his wife.

  My heart clenches because even though she’s dead I still feel the greenness of jealousy. She was beautiful and refined. He held her like something precious and seeing that is hard.

  There are articles about him and I scan the contents.

  For the most part, the articles are good. I can’t seem to find any dirt on him at all and it surprises me as much I’m relieved.

  I find a lot about The Crawford Hotel and Casino. Speculation about it’s opening. Then commentary about how shocked the markets were at Ryan’s involvement. It’s irrefutable. He owns this place.

  I can’t stay here anymore.

  The five thousand dollars he wanted me to gamble away still sits on the console. He treats that kind of money in the same way as most men cast out the change from their pockets. I could take it and use it to pay for a flight home. I could use it to get me out of his life.

  The decision that was lingering becomes solid in my mind but even though I know it’s the right thing to do my heart hurts. For all the deception, I know he isn’t a bad man. This just isn’t something I can compromise on, not when I’ve already had to compromise myself so much.

  I wait for over an hour until Ryan comes back to the bedroom. He takes a shower and I hear him moving around the room. Eventually he gets into bed beside me. I can feel his uncertainty. He lies really still. It takes ages for him to fall asleep and I wonder if it’s because he’s thinking about what to do. Is he debating telling me? Is he contemplating being honest? I can’t wait to find out because no matter what he says it isn’t going to change things for me.

  When I’m sure he’s completely asleep I slip out of the bed and pad across the room as quickly as I can. I pull on some jeans and a blouse, I grab my purse and the money. I make my way out of the room as quietly as I can. I don’t look at sleeping Ryan because I don’t trust myself. The resolve that I have to leave feels fragile. My heart-strings tug as leave him behind. The ride in the elevator is fraught with worry. Will he wake up and come after me?

  Even though I hope he won’t there is a part of me that wishes he would.

  It’s the stupid hopeful part of me that believes in love even though every experience in my life has taught me that love isn’t to be trusted. Love doesn’t keep you warm a
t night. Love doesn’t cradle your heart safely. Love doesn’t make good on its promises. Love is one big let-down. A series of sacrifices that hurt and disappoint. A legacy of betrayal and loss.

  I should know better.

  I keep my head down all the way through the lobby, praying no one will notice me. Now I know they’re all aware I’m staying with the owner of the hotel, getting spotted could be a real problem. Outside I stand in line for a cab. There are plenty there so all I have to do is wait for the couple in front of me to take the first one and then I’m off.

  “The airport,” I say to the driver.

  “You don’t have any luggage, sweetheart?” His beady eyes scan me.

  “Not today,” I say, belting myself in.

  The whole journey is stressful. I use my phone to search for flights. There is one leaving in three hours. It’s a long time to wait and I know that the longer I’m in the airport, the more chance there is of Ryan catching up with me. Unfortunately, it doesn’t look like I have a choice. There’s no private jet waiting for me this time.

  I make my way through domestic checkin and, once through security, I settle into a coffee shop to wait. There’s a newspaper on another table so I grab it and flick through to occupy my mind so I don’t start to regret my decision. It’s full of the usual depressing news and celebrity gossip. It’s not until I get to the business section at the back that I find anything actually interesting to read. There’s an article about Crawford Inc., that I now know is Ryan’s business empire. I scan through investor speculation that there is going to be some kind of shake-up. An insider has reported that Ryan Crawford is AWOL. According to the paper, the Board of Directors was unaware of Ryan’s plans to leave town and are not aware of where he is or why he’s not contactable.

  This surprises me. Ryan doesn’t strike me as an irresponsible person, especially when it comes to his business. If anything, I would have thought he would have meticulously planned his cover so that he could take the trip without any hassle.