The Billionaire's Mistress Complete Series: Alpha Billionaire Romance (16 page)

Maybe Tao was right. Maybe I should just stay away.

But I knew I wouldn’t.

“Hey.” Tao squeezed my hand, drawing my eyes to his. “I know what you’re thinking, and you need to stop. So, yeah. Your mama played the other woman for some rich, married white guy. You’ve got issues. But if she hadn’t? Allie, you wouldn’t be here. And I kinda like having you here. So suck it up and deal.” He smiled at me. “Now, let's discuss wardrobe.”

“
M
r. Lindstrom
?”

I looked up at Janie Beck – Mrs. Beck – as she smiled in at me. She’d been my father’s assistant before she was mine, a stable figure in my life. I could remember coming in after basketball practice, and then going back downstairs with money for cookies and milk from the bakery across the street.

Mrs. Beck was a sweet lady, and her kids had lived halfway across the country even back then, so she’d sort of adopted me. Thus the cookies and milk. My dad had always fussed at her not to spoil me, and she’d told him that he did it, so why couldn’t she? She was one of the few people who'd never been intimidated by who my father was or how much money he had.

She was right. My dad had spoiled me, although not enough that I could always go buy cookies and milk whenever I wanted. One thing he’d done was make sure I understood the value of a dollar. Sure, maybe I’d gotten my first Porsche when I was sixteen. A month later, I’d wrapped it around a tree and broken my leg. So my next car had been a beater, and I hadn’t gotten another decent car until I’d been able to pay for it with money
I
earned.

That entire incident had changed things for me, made me realize that I needed to stop taking things for granted. I started applying myself in school, at work. If I was asked to pinpoint a specific event that changed the direction of my life, that would've been it.

It very well might be how I got to be head of Lindstrom Enterprises, why I had my father's former assistant working for me now. And why I was dealing with a bunch of bullshit from a company I was looking to take over.

Janie winced when she heard a voice come over the speaker.
I’m sorry,
she mouthed.

I waved it off and waited until the blowhard on the other end of the line paused to take a breath. Then, I did my thing. “Listen, Malcolm. What you’re trying to tell me is that you’ve got a piece of real estate that nobody wants and that you’ll give it to me on the cheap...because nobody wants it. I can get your company, and everything else on top, because you’re feeling magnanimous, is that right?”

Mrs. Beck pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. Apparently, I played a harder game than my father had.

“Jal, listen…” Malcom Hardesty came back with a schmoozing sort of tone that made me want to hang up. But he
did
have a piece of real estate that nobody wanted right now. That was going to change, and soon. I wanted it before that happened, and I would get it.

“How about you listen?” I asked, cutting him off. “You have my deal in front of you. Look it over. Call me back. Offer expires at five. You won’t get another one this good. I’ll treat you and your people right, Malcolm. You know you won't get as good an offer from anyone else.” I ended the call and sighed, ran my hand through my hair, and then looked up at Mrs. Beck. “If it’s time for milk and cookies, you’ll have to order in. And I want coffee.”

She laughed, a loud, bawdy laugh that didn’t fit with her demure appearance.

“No, sir.” Mrs. Beck patted at her beehive hairstyle.

She'd always had it, even though it'd gone out of fashion long before I’d even been born. It might've even gone out of fashion before she'd been born. But she didn’t care. I didn’t either. It suited her, just like the cat-eye glasses and the fifties-style dresses. She sat down in the chair in front of me and folded her hands on her lap.

“Jal, honey.”

Ah, shit.

She only got
that
tone in her voice for a few reasons, and they rarely meant good things for me.

My phone rang as if on cue. I hit the ignore button and turned it face down.

Mrs. Beck wagged a finger at me. “Now, boy. You can’t ignore her forever.”

“Why not?” The words popped out of me without any conscious thought and briefly, I wondered just why it was so easy to talk to a woman like Janie Beck and so hard to talk to the woman I’d just silenced on the phone. My mother.

“Because it’s impolite.” Janie sniffed, then rolled her eyes. “And because she’ll just keep calling. You know that.”

“Yeah, I know that, Mrs. Beck.” Sighing, I eyed the phone. I would have to talk to her. With a short nod, I met the eyes of the woman across the table. “Okay. I’ll talk to her. Next time she calls.”

She arched an eyebrow that was penciled darker than they were naturally. “Will you?”

“Yes, but only because you asked.”

She gave me a skeptical look, and I grinned, laying a hand across my heart.

As she rose from her chair, she shook her head at me. “One day, boy, you’ll find a woman who’ll set you in your place. Mark my words.”

As she left the office, I reached for the paper I’d kept folded on the side of my desk. I knew that was, in part, why Mom kept calling.

The other part had everything to do with Paisley. She'd called, texted, emailed almost a dozen times. Finally, sometime Monday, she’d stopped. But Mom hadn’t stopped, I knew she wouldn't, not until she said what she had to say.

It didn’t help that some of the media had become slightly obsessed with the charity banquet. There’d been some pop sensation there, so the press had shown up. There were dozens of pictures of her, but my problem was that there were also a couple of me...and my
unnamed partner
.

None of the pictures of Allie had gotten a clear shot of her face, and I was thankful for that. She wouldn’t appreciate the intrusion on her privacy.

But there was no doubt about the fact that the two of us looked…cozy.

In one of them, I looked downright dazed. And that was a good way to describe how Allie made me feel.

Dazed.

Had she gotten the invitation?

I’d ended up going through all the contacts I had at my disposal, and to my surprise, one of the charitable arms actually had her address. They wouldn’t release it to me, but they did mention that her family was active in the deaf community. That was when I remembered that Allie had said her family was deaf.

That could be my way in.

The company had an event this weekend, so I’d told them to overnight an invitation to someone I'd missed. They’d been happy to do so even though they'd still refused to give me the information.

Privacy reasons…bullshit.

I was about ready to just hire a private investigator, but I had a feeling Allie wouldn’t thank me for that, so I held off.

If she came to the event, then it wouldn’t matter.

If she didn’t…well. Then I’d reevaluate–

The phone rang.

Swearing, I almost silenced it. Again. But I’d told Mrs. Beck I’d talk to my mom the next time she called. And I never lied to Mrs. Beck.

“Hello, Mom.”

“Jal, darling.”

The ice in her tone would have had more of an effect if I hadn’t been so used to it. After all, I disappointed her on a regular basis. Well, except in business. She appreciated how good I was at making money. And I knew she loved me. In her own way.

“How are you?” I asked, falling back on the social niceties she’d drilled into my head since before I’d been old enough to understand them.

“Wonderful, dear. You?”

“Busy. Got a few deals I’m trying to square away – one of them has an expiration date.”
So can we just get on with this…

“You're always up to something.”

I got the feeling she wasn't talking about work.

“Tell me, son, I was talking to Paisley, and heard something rather upsetting. She seems to think you’re not so certain about your engagement now. She’s wrong, isn’t she, Jal?”

Shit. I should've known to pre-empt things by letting Mom know what was going on. Of course Paisley had gone right to her.

Closing my eyes, I leaned back in the seat. Soft leather cupped me, the chair steadying under me as I kicked my feet up on the desk. “No, Mom. She’s not wrong. We aren’t right for marriage, I don’t think. I need time to make sure we’re doing the right thing. Not just for us, but for the baby too.”

“How can there be any question of that?” She snapped. “You have a
child
coming. You should be married before that child arrives.”

I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. “People should marry for reasons other than a child. I can be there for the baby
without
being married to Paisley. It'd be worse for a child to be raised in a loveless marriage.”

There was nothing but silence on the other end for several long moments. Her response, when it came, grated on my ears.

“Nonsense.” Her voice was brisk, matter-of-fact. “Listen, Jal…you’ve always been a…
sweet
boy.”

Sweet?

I bit back the curse words that I wanted to let loose.

“I know you might have some idea in your head of a passionate kind of love, something crazy and wild…heaven knows I had those ideas a few times myself. And your father?” She laughed, the sound trailing off into a gusty sigh. “But there’s more to life than…fantasy. You need to have a
good
, solid foundation. Like what you have with Paisley.”

Was she seriously accusing me of being a romantic? Did the woman not know me at all? I'd never been the sort of person who'd searched for love. There was sex and lust. There was friendship, companionship. But I didn't believe in the sort of love my mother was accusing me of wanting.

Right?

And how in the world could she say that Paisley and I had a solid foundation? What made it solid? The fact that both of us came from wealthy families? That we knew the same people in the same social circles?

But we weren't alike in other ways.

For Paisley, no remark was too cutting, no insult too cold. No dress was too fine, and nothing was too good for her.

Matter of fact,
most
things weren’t good
enough
.

Despite my upbringing – or maybe because of it – I appreciated the things I had. I liked nice things, and I could sometimes be a bit abrasive, but I wasn't cruel.

Was our background enough to give us common ground?

“Do you really think we have a solid foundation?”

“Of course I do.” My mother rushed to assure me, but I knew she didn't understand that it wasn’t doubts I had.

What I had were certainties. Certainties about the ways it wouldn't work. Nothing she would say would change them. But I didn’t want to argue with her. I knew from experience that it wouldn't change anything with her.

Mom continued, “Now, I realize how…intriguing it might be to have some pretty thing clinging to you.”

I stiffened. “What?”

“Don’t play the fool. It doesn’t suit you, Jal.” She sniffed. “I saw the paper. I’m sure you did too. The
girl
, Jal. I saw you dancing with that girl. And you looked like you were…were…” She sputtered now, unable to come up with something apparently fitting.

“I looked like what?” I stared at the picture. I know what I looked like.

I looked like a man who actually
felt
something. I didn't need a picture to know I never looked like that when I was with Paisley because I never felt much of anything when I was with her.

“To be honest, Jal, you look like you’re being led around by the dick by some cheap whore,” she said, her voice cold.

Anger flashed through me, bright and hot.
Hell, Mom. Just tell me how you really feel
. But I remained calm as I replied, “That’s enough.”

“
Really
, Jal. Have you looked at those pictures? What are people going to think? What are our friends going to think?” Mother carried on as if I hadn’t said anything.

I wasn’t surprised. How often did I really say anything? But I wasn’t going to listen to her talk about Allie like that. What we'd done was on me, not her.

“Mom, please stop.” I put more emphasis in my voice, and when she continued to keep talking, I said, “Fine. I guess I’ll just hang up. You didn’t call to talk to me. You called to talk
over
me.”

That got her attention.

“What…no, wait. Jal, darling. Of course I want to talk to you.” Surprise showed in her voice, but she managed to cover it well.

“Then we can talk. What did you want to talk about?” Still frustrated, I leaned back in my chair.

On the other end of the line, my mother laughed. “Do I need a specific topic in mind? I just wanted…well, Jal. To be honest, I’m worried about you. I can’t believe you told Paisley you needed time to think. You’re about to be a father. The two of you have been together a long time.”

“Not really.”
Six months. Barely.

She carried on as if I hadn’t said anything.

“It’s perfectly understandable that you might be getting cold feet. That girl in the paper, she probably scented you down like a shark scents blood.”

“Mom…”

“When do you think you’ll be ready to talk to Paisley?”

I didn’t say the response that immediately leapt to my lips. I could only imagine what my mother would think if I told her I’d just as soon never talk to Paisley again outside of conversation related to the baby. That wouldn't go over well.

But she wasn't going to let it go. “Jal?”

So I lied. “I don’t know, Mom. I told you. I need time. When two people get married, it shouldn’t be because there's an unplanned pregnancy. There should be...more. I don't know what, exactly, but I do know that Paisley and I don’t have that.” I sighed. “I need to go, okay? I’ll talk to you later.”

I hung up before she could respond and sat there, staring at the phone. I hadn’t planned on saying any of that, but now that I had, I had no intention of taking it back.

I couldn’t, not without telling some sort of lie.

A few weeks ago, a month ago, maybe I saw a different sort of truth, but the bottom line was, there
wasn’t
any kind of connection between Paisley and me. And I could no longer stomach the thought of being in a relationship that felt more like a business transaction.

It’s one thing not to believe in love. It’s another thing to feel hopeless about the rest of your fucking life.

And that was how I felt.

I had no idea what to do about it either.