Deacon: A BWWM Billionaire Romance (6 page)

“Good trip?” Mira asked, rubbing my near shoulder.

“Very good trip.”

“Did you uncover some secret supervillain club of tax evaders or something?”

“I'm in the corporate finance division, not taxes.”

“As an artist, I am not obligated to understand any of those words.”

“You never plan on selling anything you make?”

“I plan on my parents setting me up with some Indian millionaire.”

I snorted. “As your friend, I am not obligated to believe any of
those
words.”

Mira had been the most fiercely independent girl I ever met. Who else could have gotten me to change the entire course of my life? She’d been my Peter Pan, teaching me to fly, fly, fly.

But living with her for a year and a half had taught me just how low she flew. She relied on parents an awful lot for someone who rebelled against everything they said. They had a strange push-pull relationship – well, next to my push-push one anyway.

A thin smile spread over her lips. “If the guy was super rich, I would give him a second look. Every artist needs a patron.”

“I don't know much about art, but I don't think the guy who sponsored Michelangelo made him spread his legs. Or bear him heirs.”

“Heirs? Gods, Kiara, my parents are Hindu, not medieval royalty.”

I rattled her long barely clothed leg. “Whatever, I'm hungry. Let's go eat.”

“Ugh, no. Let's just cook here.”

“Fine.” Inspiration struck me. “Actually yeah, it'll be my treat. A little thanks for taking care of Snowflake.”

Snowflake turned his tawny face up at his name.

“Sure-” Mira started, but then her brow crossed She shook her head. “Wait, wait, wait. Uh-uh. Those drinks are still in your future missy.”

I sighed. “Fine, just not tonight.”

I wasn't good with a stove, and not from lack of trying. My mother had been horrified by that – as if that was the prime injustice in our household. But you didn't need much to boil pasta and toss it up with meat sauce and veggies. I felt victorious against her for the second time that day as I served Mira.

Mira and I ate quietly watching her reality show. I preferred comedies, but it at least kept her from asking questions. I didn't want to share last night until I was sure what it meant. Once it was out there, it'd be out there. She would not let it rest.

I was washing up, when my phone rattled with a number. I sighed and prepared to flick it off, but it wasn’t my mom. I didn't recognize it. Then, with a flash I understood. I hurried off into the bedroom and shut the door.

“Evening, Darlin,” I heard, the moment I picked up.

“Hi, who is this?” I asked.

“You're hilarious, you know that?”

“You sound familiar, but it's way too soon for this to be that call.”

“You can't expect me to wait with a night like that on my mind. What is this, middle school?”

“I wouldn't know. I didn't go out with guys till late in college.”

“That makes sense.”

I clenched the phone tighter. “What exactly does that mean?”

“Your pussy's still got that new car smell to it.”

I nearly turned away from the phone. “Jesus, Deacon.”

“Seems we cleared up that spell of amnesia.”

“New car smell? Do girls actually like that line?”

“Wouldn't know. I only date women.”

The word 'date' exploded in my head. “Oh.”

“Oh? You distracted over there? Still at work?”

“No, no.” I cleared my head. “What do you want?”

“Another chance to see you.”

I took a few breaths. Another night
would
be fun. Maybe there was nothing wrong with that. But the day had left me with a sour stomach. My family still lay too close to my mind and now Deacon was pulling too.

No, he was different. Another night was just another night.

“Ok,” I said. “I'd like that.”

“Good. Tomorrow at eight? I'll come to you.”

“You want to have dinner then?”

“Too late? I can do earlier. I'm a very busy man, of course, but I can do that for you.”

“I just...” What was wrong with me? I was getting invited to a date and I was only interested in the part that came after? That wasn't who I was.

That was the problem though. I wasn't myself around Deacon. He’d mesmerized me in the airport. What could he do to me, if I gave him more time?

“Tick-tock.”

“I can't,” I said. “I have a massive case to work on this week.”

“Jesus, how are you this busy?”

I shrugged in the empty room. “I'm pretty new. I need to make a name for myself.”

“Your body should handle the task just fine.”

“Believe it or not, my brain's even better.”

“I can believe it. Fine, let’s meet up this weekend then.”

I gritted my teeth. “Could I call you back later this week? I may be busy then, too.”

He exhaled like a breaching whale. “You are a very unique brand of crazy, you know that?”

“I think I do, actually.”

He said nothing. The digital red clock ticked over to eight o'clock.

“Ok,” I said. “I'll let you know soon.”

“As a rule, I'm not a man who's kept waiting.”

“Maybe, but you also seem like a guy who breaks rules.”

I could actually hear his lips crease up on the other end. Despite everything, it made me tingle.

“That's fair. Make sure you bring that tongue wagging back ASAP, you hear.”

“Yes, sir.”

I hung up, and stared at the blank screen for a minute before going back out.

Mira had her hair up in a bun and was finishing up the dishes on her own, a small miracle. She looked over from the sink.

“More work?” she said, scowling. “You really need to relax.”

“I do. I really do.”

But not so much that I lost track of who I was.

CHAPTER SIX

Deacon

I sat in my leather throne, one leg folded on top of the other, gazing out the giant window behind my desk. The Houston office of Stone Holdings was outside the city, up north in the Woodlands.

My room was set in the top floor, of course, but that was just ten levels up. It was no tower of Babel. When they talked about everything being bigger in Texas, they mostly meant girth not length. But we still stood taller than the half dozen other oil majors nearby.

With the sun dropping from noon, the windows had lost their tint and I could gaze out at the radiant blue waters of the vast pond we had installed on this side. That was a proper salve on the mind.

I'd need something stronger after the project meeting. Even if things lined up perfectly, squabbling with my family always split my head in half. A date with Kiara would have been a fine thing to look forward to, but it wasn't in the cards.

Some employee's wife had taken a rowboat out on the pond with her three little kids. I couldn’t tell their genders for certain, but they wore hard reds and browns under their lifejackets. They scrambled up and down the shallow deck, pointing at the water.

What did they tell each other they saw down there? Probably something bigger than the crawfish and trout actually filling the space.

I could just imagine them shouting down each other’s lies, squabbling to outdo each other. Even now, I had dim memories of Jesse and me in a yacht, trying to convince each other that we’d seen a shark fin as we coasted through the Gulf.

We must have been no bigger than the three in there. Still too young to truly grasp the prize that our father had set between us. Too young to understand that only one of us would ever grab it.

The chair squeaked back at the conference table. I whirled back to my desk. Trey must have finished analyzing the deal I was bringing to my meeting. It would decide whether I could stay CEO or not, but my heart didn’t even beat a pulse faster. My play was solid. It was the right call.

Trey stood, adjusting the navy suit over his lanky NBA frame as he came over. It faded past a salmon shirt into his brown skin. The colors were sharp. He was not a guy that let his profession dictate how the world saw him. It was a small thing, but I appreciated it at work as much as when we went out on the town.

“That a new suit?” I asked.

“Yeah.” He tugged the lapels. “A little treat I gave myself after my last promotion.”

“Well, show me you earned that VP title. What’s the verdict?”

He fanned the sheets. “This thing is hot.”

“Miami hot or hellfire and brimstone?”

“Neither.” He slapped the papers down before me and plopped down into the leather seat across. “I just mean you need to act fast. It just so happens right now that your stars are aligned in the energy market. But who knows how long it will last?”

I flipped through, looking at the neat little red marks he’d made. Trey’s gaze followed mine like some sort of military targeting laser, ready to fire on any protest I made. But I trusted him more than I could count on the sun to set in the West.

“That’s not a great pitch to make,” I said, once I was done flipping through. “My family hated this deal before they ever heard about it.”

“Sorry, man. I can’t fundamentally alter the risk. Stone Holdings has always been about oil. Now, you want to buy a solar company. There's no avoiding that. But if this goes as planned, you’ll be a major international player in the solar industry within a decade.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“There's a tiny chance y’all might lose that third comma to your net worth.”

“Shit.”

Trey clicked his tongue. “Yeah, it’d be a true tragedy to see you have to scrape and struggle with a nine figure lifestyle.”

“I’d make do. Jesse and my mother might hire hitmen.”

He shrugged. “Just keep me out of that fight. I do not want your mom even knowing I exist.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Buddy, she’s been aware of you since the day you joined.”

“By name?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Well, shit.”

My dad had his first and last heart attack not long after I finished up at UPenn, leaving me as acting CEO. And as any smart mid-twenties guy handed an empire would do, my first move was trying to make my best buddy from college my CFO.

Trey was a great guy and a diamond even among the brainiacs at Wharton. He'd started from nothing in West Philly, and landed in college with a full ride. I figured we either scooped him now, or we might face him later.

I’ll admit, it wasn't smart on any level. It wasn’t just my family screaming. It was the rest of the executives, too. I compromised on a director level position for him. He was working his way up the ranks just fine.

“Don't worry,” I said. “Jesse's not spiteful. Whoever ends up on top, you're safe.”

“That's something, I guess.” Trey checked his watch. “What time’s your meeting?”

I blew air threw my teeth. “An hour.”

“Whiskeys after?”

“Sure, got nothing else I know of.”

Trey clapped the arms of the chair and stood up. He made it halfway to the door, then turned.

“Were you
supposed
to have something?” he asked.

I waved him off. “Nothing solid.”

“You are a shitty liar.”

I shrugged bashfully. “It ain't a lie. I tried to line up a date. Didn’t go as planned.”

Trey chuckled in disbelief. “What kind of girl turns down Deacon goddamn Stone?”

“I didn’t tell her who I was. We’re not that famous for her to know otherwise.”

“Kid, forget your name. Your face looks famous even without it. “

I threw up my hands. “Alright, man, enough sweet talk. We’ve been over this. I’m flattered but I don’t want you to blow me.”

Trey threw up a solid pair of middle fingers and walked out.

Kiara was still on my mind, though, as I headed over to the conference room an hour later. What girl
would
pass me up? She’d had fun the other night, that was for sure. Our tongues had danced even before we got to the room. Yet, a second date was too much commitment?

I could buy the work thing, but it didn't feel like the whole of the truth. Few girls I’d come across were so focused on their career, and we hired the best at Stone Holdings.

Well, it wasn’t a no. I wasn’t practiced at waiting, but I had other games to keep my attention.

I patted down my sports jacket and my chinos, then opened the tall dark heartwood door and stepped into the board room. It had been designed by my father: classical, redone with a couple modern flourishes.

A small round table sat the center of the room, no bigger than a poker table. Spot lighting shone on it from each corner. The walls were a slippery chestnut hue, and the chairs were four-legged, wooden, old-world designs.