Catching the Billionaire Read online

  It wasn’t about the money. I had more money than I knew what to do with.

  Thanks to an app I’d developed with my friend, Rem, I was a billionaire. I’d provided the sports knowledge and the initial investment, and he’d provided the coding. It had taken off, offering sports fans an entirely new way to experience the games. And giving us more money than we ever could’ve imagined.

  “Hey, old man.” Nash strutted past me, his chest puffed out like a peacock.

  I rolled my eyes but ignored his dig. I knew he was only trying to rile me, trying to get in my head. But he wasn’t allowed there—no one was. It was a restricted zone, like my heart. Completely off-limits.

  I showered and was nearly dressed when the media came pouring into the locker room. This was my least favorite part of the job, but it was a necessary evil. The daily media locker room session was non-negotiable according to the team owner, Arthur Fleming. Sometimes I despised how much emphasis he put on pandering to the media, but I had to respect the man’s business sense. In the last decade, he’d completely turned the team around into one of the most successful teams in the league.

  “Brandon.” One of the reporters approached, recording device in hand. “What about the rumors that your knee is acting up again?” That old injury plagued me in more ways than one.

  “Not true.” I needed to project the image that I was strong, capable, worth keeping my position on the team for another season or two.

  “Really?” she asked, cocking her hip. “I saw you limping off the field today.”

  “Then you must need your eyes checked because it wasn’t me.” I gave her my most charming smile, though nothing about it felt sincere.

  I’d faltered for a split-second during my walk back to the tunnel, but no one could know. Not when it could mean the difference between another season with the Eagles and retirement.

  Another reporter stepped into my space, circling like a vulture. “Rebecca Simmons is back with Jake Lee. And they’re engaged.”

  “Good for them,” I said, and this time my smile was genuine.

  “Were you behind their recent break-up?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “No.” I threw some things in my duffle bag and shut my locker. “Now, unless there are any more questions about football or the team, I have no further comment.”

  Rebecca was a rising star, and nothing more than a friend. After she and Jake broke up, she’d needed a shoulder to cry on. Though nothing happened between us, the media assumed we were dating. We simply failed to correct them.

  The resulting press showed her ex that she’d moved on. Which only convinced him he wanted her back—surprise, surprise. It was just as I’d predicted.

  So, when I said I was happy for them, I honestly meant it. Rebecca was a good friend, she deserved every happiness. She deserved love. Something I couldn’t give her, or any woman.

  I’d barely made it through the front door when my phone started ringing. I set my duffle bag on the polished wood floor and dug in my suit pocket for my cell phone. The team had just returned from an away game in Washington, and I was exhausted. To say the game went badly would be an understatement. And tomorrow, it would start all over again. The training, the meetings.

  Scott’s name flashed on the screen. Were it anyone else, I would’ve sent it straight to voicemail. But I’d always answer for my agent, my friend.

  Scott had helped me navigate the draft at a time when I could barely get through life. He’d been at my side for every major deal, and he was good at his job. No. Not just good, the best. The man was a legend in the industry, and I liked that he was straight forward, to the point. I might not always like his advice, but I knew I could trust it. He had yet to steer me wrong.

  I was talented, and I worked hard. But Scott… I shook my head. The man could spin straw into gold. He’d taken my innate abilities and turned them into an empire. And he’d helped me manage my income when the app took off. He’d been there every step of the way—guiding me.

  “Scott,” I said, connecting the call. “How are you?”

  “I’ve been better,” he huffed. “Listen, son. We need to talk.”

  “Okay.” I sat on my leather couch, the city lights providing the backdrop to my infinity-edge pool. For such an amazing property, you’d think it would be party central. But I almost never invited anyone here. “What’s going on?”

  “You’re home, right?”

  “Yeah.” I leaned my head back on the couch.

  Home sweet home. Though it certainly didn’t feel like it. A designer had selected everything from the curtains to the rugs. It was a beautiful house. It had even been photographed for several magazines. But it wasn’t home.

  Maybe because you’re rattling around 10,000 square-feet all alone, a voice whispered.

  “I’ll be there in five,” Scott said, interrupting my thoughts. “We can talk about it then.” He disconnected the call without giving me a chance to object.

  I stood from the couch, an uneasy feeling spreading through my limbs. Now I was really concerned. Scott was a busy man. Though we often met for lunch, house calls were rare. And usually meant bad news.

  I sorted through the mail my housekeeper had left on the counter while I waited for him to arrive. My phone pinged, alerting me that I had a visitor. A glance at the security feed confirmed that it was Scott, and I went to answer the door. Scott stood on the steps of my home, and he looked about as tired as I felt.

  “Hey. Come on in. Can I get you a drink—coffee, tea, water?” I asked as he followed me to the kitchen.

  The top-of-the-line stainless-steel appliances gleamed beneath the bright lights, as did custom-made Viking six-burner stove. Everything was immaculate, untouched.

  “I’ll take a glass of water,” he said, taking a seat at the breakfast table.

  “So—” I set the glass before him. His expression was stern, and I wracked my brain for what I could’ve possibly done to provoke such a response.

  “I’ll get straight to the point.” He spun the glass with his hands. “I met with Arthur today,” he said, referring to the Dallas Eagles’ owner. “And I get the impression he wants to keep you on another season, but he has reservations.”

  “About my ability to continue playing at this level?” I asked, knowing that was a real possibility.

  I’d had a good run, longer than most. The NFL wasn’t referred to by the players as “not for long” for nothing. Still I wasn’t done. Or at least, I didn’t want to be. I had so much I still wanted to accomplish—winning a championship was definitely at the top of my list.

  He sighed, a heavy sound that spoke of weariness that went bone-deep. “Arthur doesn’t like your image as America’s Heartbreaker. You have a reputation as one of the league’s biggest players.” I opened my mouth to protest, but he continued talking. “And he’s worried that it will reflect negatively on the team.”

  “Since when?” I asked. “I’ve spent my entire career with the Eagles. Seven years. Why is this suddenly an issue?”

  “Look. There’s been a shift. There are lawsuits against members of the league for sexual assault. Combined with the number of players defending themselves against accusations of domestic abuse…” He spread his hands wide. “The league, and Arthur especially, want to project a more positive image of the sport. They don’t want players; they want role models. They want family men.”

  My mouth fell open. “This is…wow. That’s unbelievable. Especially considering what some of the other guys are like.”

  “Be that as it may, you’re a leader on the team, in the league. The other guys look to you,” Scott said in a calm voice. “I think Arthur is hoping that if you fall in line, they will too.”

  “What exactly does he mean by ‘fall in line’?” I asked, complete with air quotes.

  “Have a lasting relationship with someone, maybe even get engaged.”

  I scoffed. “This is outrageous. There’s no way I’m getting engaged for the sake of my ca
reer.”

  “That may be so,” Scott said in a calm voice. “But it is what it is. You either conform or you’re cut.”

  “He actually said that?” I asked, clenching my fists.

  “Not in so many words.”

  I stood from the table, pacing back and forth along the wall of windows overlooking the pool. Apparently, my ability to continue playing a sport I loved, a sport I was good at, had nothing to do with my skills on the field and everything to do with my love life. It made me sick.

  “So…I’ll, I’ll go to another team,” I said, knowing I could never do it.

  Dallas was my home. I’d spent my entire career with the Eagles. I’d started here, and I wanted to end here.

  “I don’t think you understand.” Scott’s gaze was unwavering. “This is a league-wide initiative. You’re an amazing athlete, Brandon. But you need to play their game if you want to, well, play the game.”

  I closed my eyes, rubbing at my temples to stem my growing headache. It wasn’t that I opposed family values and modeling good behavior, far from it. I just didn’t think my employer should be able to dictate how I lived my life.

  “Look,” Scott finally said, drawing my attention back to him. “You don’t actually need to get married or settle down, just give the appearance of it. At least until the ink’s dry on your contract.”

  “I can’t.” I sucked in a jagged breath. The mere suggestion of it made my heart race and my palms sweat. “I can’t love someone, and everyone will know I’m faking it.”

  He shrugged. “Is it really any different than what you’re doing now? You’re not actually involved with any of the women you’re photographed with. You never even so much as kiss these women, yet everyone believes the lies you feed them.”

  “The lies you told me to feed them,” I ground out.

  I was annoyed with this conversation. If I’d been in a bad mood after losing the game to Washington, I was in an even worse one now.

  “Oh no.” He held up his hands, shaking his head. “Don’t put this on me. You wanted to create a distraction for the press, and I gave you one. I never expected you’d take the ball and run with it for so long.”

  And I still needed the distraction. It was better to keep the press diverted with the present than risk them digging in my past.

  “Why didn’t you try to stop me?” I asked, even knowing he was right.

  The corner of his mouth lifted. “It was good for business.”

  “Yeah.” I crossed my arms over my chest, leaning my hip against the marble countertop. “Emphasis on was, apparently.”

  “Times are changing, Brandon. If you don’t change with them, Nash will be starting tight end come fall.”

  I ground my molars so hard I thought they might crack. There was no way I was going to let that happen.

  Chapter Three

  Staci

  “Staci,” Ellie called from the other room. “Have you seen the donations box? You know the one with the kitchen stuff?”

  “Did you look in the kitchen?” I asked.

  I was sitting in the middle of my bedroom, knowing we’d say goodbye soon. The house was small but cozy, and I’d miss my window seat. It was my favorite place to read, especially when the afternoon sun warmed my skin. I’d miss the upright piano overlooking the garden where I’d practiced my scales and played duets with my dad.

  Daddy.

  I couldn’t think of him without a small tear escaping, making a determined path down my cheek. I wondered what he’d think of this move? He’d worked so hard to keep us in our home, to keep us clothed and fed while Mama battled cancer. And now… I took a deep breath. Now we were packing up what we could, selling or donating the rest, and moving to Dallas.

  Of the four of us, I was probably the most excited about the move. Job prospects in our small town in the Texas Panhandle were abysmal at best. And to find one that involved music—forget it. But Dallas, I sighed. Dallas was a huge city. One with endless possibilities and things like museums and symphony halls. Not that I had the money to attend a concert or visit a museum. But maybe one day I would.

  “Staci,” Ellie called. “It’s time.”

  I stood, brushing my hands on my thighs. I took one final glance around my now-empty bedroom, shutting the door behind me. The pictures had been removed from the walls, much of the furniture had been sold, and the house was now a shell of its former self. There had only been room for a few of Daddy’s prized record collection, and I’d struggled to choose which ones to keep. Parting with the rest was like losing another piece of him.

  Mama promised that we’d love Aunt Karen’s house. Though I didn’t know how she could make such promises—she’d never even seen it. We didn’t have the money to travel, and they’d never been interested in visiting a small town in the middle of nowhere. I couldn’t say I blamed them—there was nothing here.

  There certainly wasn’t anything for us here anymore, I thought with one last glance at the only home I’d ever known.

  Amy had been quiet all day, and I knew she was still upset about having to leave her beloved Mr. Wiggles with the neighbors. Mama was also quiet, but I assumed she was just tired. For most of the drive, I’d alternated between watching the scenery change and reading.

  “You doing okay?” I asked Ellie when we stopped for lunch several hours later.

  She handed me a sandwich, and I could tell from the slump of her shoulders that she was exhausted. She’d been driving three hours straight, and we were maybe half-way to Dallas.

  “Yeah.” She straightened as if to hide the weariness. “I’m good.”

  “Why don’t you let me take over for a while,” I said, hoping she wouldn’t protest.

  “I’m fine,” she said around a yawn. “I enjoy driving.”

  I narrowed my eyes at her. “Yeah, like I believe you.”

  “Staci,” she huffed. “I’m good. Really. Now let’s get back on the road. I want to get to Aunt Karen’s before dark.”

  I pointed my finger at her over the roof of the car. “Okay. But if you change your mind, just say the word. I’d be happy to drive.”

  “Noted,” she said and slid into the driver’s seat.

  But she didn’t change her mind. And I finally stopped asking.

  Three hours later, we arrived at a gated community on the outskirts of Dallas. Evergreen garlands with white lights and large red ornaments lined the entrance, leading to a guard shack. As we rolled to a stop, Amy finally came to, pushing herself off my shoulder as she glanced around.

  “Are we here?” she asked.

  I nodded as Ellie gave our information to the security guard. She’d insisted on driving the entire time, though I wasn’t surprised. I just didn’t understand why she was so stubborn sometimes, so unwilling to accept help even when it was offered. Which was why it was all the more astonishing that she’d agreed to the move to Dallas. Our situation must be even more dire than I’d realized, if she’d agreed the move was a good one.

  The guard waved us on, and the gates opened to let us in. I whipped my head from side to side, completely in awe. The homes were enormous. And they were beautiful, some of them designed to look like small castles. Almost all of them had white lights lining the roof and large Christmas trees sparkling in the front windows. It was like something straight out of a fairytale.

  Finally, Ellie pulled up to a large home on a cul-de-sac with a round drive and a huge fountain in the center. White lights lined the roof and sparkled in the bushes; it was elegant and opulent at the same time. Surely this couldn’t be Aunt Karen’s home—our new home—right?

  The front door was a massive iron work and glass design, and it opened before we could knock. Aunt Karen stood in the doorway looking like a model. She was tall with tanned skin and blond hair that cascaded over her shoulders. Pink lipstick kissed her lips, and everything about her was perfect.

  “Welcome, welcome,” she said with a bright smile.

  A chorus of barks echoed off the cav
ernous walls, and two small white dogs came into view. Amy crouched down to pet them, laughing as they jumped up to lick her face. I grinned down at her; it was good to see her happy.

  “My dear, Lisa,” Aunt Karen said, wrapping her arms loosely around Mama. “I’m so glad to have you here.”

  “Thank you.” Mama’s voice cracked.

  The foyer alone was larger than our old house, and I tried not to gawk as I took in the glittering chandeliers and marble floors. Everything about the place was massive, and the word mansion seemed more apt to describe my aunt’s home. And the Christmas decorations—it must have taken an army to put up so many lights, garlands, and ornaments. Everywhere I looked there was some unexpected delight.

  Aunt Karen quickly swiped away a tear, then turned to Ellie and me with a bright smile. “Look at you, Ellie. My, you’ve grown into a beautiful young woman.” Ellie smiled and ducked her head.

  Ellie was beautiful, with her chestnut hair and hazel eyes. She was taller than me by a few inches, and thin.

  “And you—” she turned to me. “Gracious me,” she said, holding a hand to her chest. “You look just like your mom did at your age. Hair the color of straw and those expressive blue eyes.”

  “Come on,” she said, wrapping her arm around my shoulder. “You must be tired after the drive. Let me show you your rooms so you can get settled in. We’ll catch up over dinner.”

  She led us past a wall of windows overlooking a swimming pool with a golf course just beyond. It was like something you’d find in those home magazines at the doctor’s offices.

  “Here’s Amy’s room,” Aunt Karen said, pausing outside the door to a bedroom.

  There was a bunk bed with a desk below, corkboards, and bookshelves. Perfect for Amy. Next to her room was Mama’s, which had a four-poster canopy bed with sheers. Mama even smiled a little when she saw it.

  “I hope it’s okay that I put you two together,” she said, glancing at Ellie then me.

  “Okay?” I asked, when I stepped over the threshold. “It’s beautiful. Oh my gosh. I love it.”