Interview with the Billionaire Read online

  Maybe that was karma. But then again, he was hardly a saint. Still, he’d found Nikki. And never did a did go by that he didn’t thank the universe for that miracle.

  “Where’d you go?”

  “Just thinking how much I love you.” He watched as she lifted one brow. “I swear,” he said, then laughed as the doorbell chime filled the room.

  “Showtime,” Nikki said, as they hurried toward the door. They opened it to find fourteen-year-old Ronnie and her ten year old brother Jeffery practically bouncing at the door.

  “Go on back,” Jackson—Damien’s half-brother—said, and they burst down the hall, their cries of, “Hi, Uncle Damien! Hi, Aunt Nikki,” flying behind them.

  “Stay clean,” Nikki called. “Pictures soon!”

  “Apparently, Ronnie’s come up with a new game,” Sylvia said. “Also known as a new way to boss around her brother and cousins.”

  She was about to say something else, but Evelyn and Frank approached from behind. Both in their early sixties, they made an attractive couple. Evelyn in her flowing, BoHo style clothes that probably would have fit right in at Woodstock, and Frank in his tweed jacket, white button-down, and pressed jeans coupled with cowboy boots.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” Nikki said, hugging her father first and then Evelyn, the woman who’d been more a mother to her than Elizabeth Fairchild ever had, something that Damien would be forever grateful for. Then again, she’d been more than a mother to him as well, and there had been times that Damien wondered if his own mom had sent her to him as a guardian angel.

  “Are we the last ones?” That from Jamie, as she stepped in around Jackson, followed by Ryan Hunter, her husband and Damien’s closest friend.

  Well, he had been Damien’s closest friend. That was before Jackson. Now, he’d have to say they both filled that role.

  Orlando McKee—Ollie—had arrived with them, and while Damien wouldn’t count Ollie in his tightest circle, Nikki definitely did. And today was about family. Jamie and Ollie might not be blood, but they were more family to Nikki than her mother ever was.

  “You’re the last,” Nikki told Jamie, then turned to Damien. “Shall we see if Maggie is ready for us?”

  Damien’s Journal

  Children

  I have a niece.

  * * *

  A precocious pixie of a little girl. Veronica Amelia Steele.

  * * *

  She’s clever and sweet and looks remarkably like me. Or, more accurately, she looks like my brother. Her father.

  * * *

  What a long way we’ve come, he and I. From essentially enemies to family-in-name to true friends. To real brothers.

  * * *

  And his little girl is now officially my niece. Nikki and I joined him and Sylvia in court for the final paternity ruling. After which there was much celebration and spoiling of the child.

  * * *

  I confess to a tug at my heart. To watching Nikki and hoping that someday we’d have a little girl or boy who looked at us with the kind of love with which Ronnie looks at her father, and at Sylvia, too, who from what Jackson tells me is not only incredible with Ronnie, but has fallen into the unexpected roll of Mommy with both enthusiasm and skill.

  * * *

  I want that. I do.

  * * *

  But I also know that Nikki may not share that desire. We both had miserable childhoods, but at least I had a mother who loved me. Who left me only because she died. Even now, with so much I can do with the resources I command, I could not have saved her anymore than I can save Nikki from the past that she spent with Elizabeth Fairchild. Or from the pain and damage that vile woman caused.

  * * *

  I know Nikki fears that she would walk in her mother’s footsteps as a parent, but I also know that would never happen. I know her heart, and that’s not who she is.

  * * *

  But as much as I want to take the fear from her—as many times as I’ve promised to protect her—I can’t protect her from the demons of fear and self-doubt.

  * * *

  I can only try to reflect back to her the strong, capable woman I see.

  * * *

  I can only hope that she will continue to find her own strength.

  * * *

  Because, dammit, I’m jealous of my brother. I want a child. Nikki’s child. Our child.

  * * *

  And I have to believe that one day, some precious little imp will call us Mommy and Daddy.

  Charles got a lab to rush the test. It’s positive. I’m Ashton Stone’s father, and he fucking hates me.”

  * * *

  - Enchant Me

  Chapter 5: Someone’s Missing

  They all moved to the pool deck, then followed Maggie’s directions as to where to stand, finally ending up in front of the pool, the infinity-style edge behind them so that Damien assumed the final photo would show them standing on a vast spread of calm water that appeared to seamlessly join with the sea.

  “Okay,” Maggie said. “I think we’re ready. If you can all just—oh.”

  “Is something wrong?” Nikki asked.

  “No, no. I just realized we’re not all here.” She turned her attention to Damien. “Where’s your oldest son? Where’s Ashton?”

  “I’m afraid he can’t make it. He’s out of the country, actually.” Damien had been disappointed when he’d called Ash after Evelyn told him about this last minute interview. Though it would be an understatement to say that it had been rough learning he had an unknown son last year, he couldn’t deny that things had turned a full one-eighty.

  Now he considered Ashton Stone to be both his son and a friend. One day, hopefully, a business associate, too. The man definitely had the talent, something that made Damien incredibly proud.

  “Oh.” Maggie frowned. “I was under the impression we’d have the entire family. Plus I really wanted to get a photo of the two of you. For the article. And I wanted to get his thoughts on you, your business, your relationship. I know that readers will be interested. After all, I doubt there’s anyone in the country who didn’t hear at least something about the fallout when he announced himself as your son.”

  “No,” Damien said cooly as Nikki squeezed his hand in solidarity. “I imagine that’s true. But it’s also behind us. I have a good relationship with my son.”

  Maggie smiled warmly. “I know. That’s the point. Readers saw the drama. Now they should see where it settled. How well it settled.”

  “I don’t disagree on principle, but as I said, he’s unavailable. But I’m happy to give him a call and find out when he’ll be back.”

  “I appreciate that. We can move ahead today, and if he gets back in time, we can do another shoot for the two of you, as well as at least one portrait with all the Starks—you two, the little ones, and Ashton.”

  “If you’ll excuse me a moment, I’ll try to get in touch right now.”

  Maggie smiled—a rare, genuine smile that he’d seen all too infrequently when they were going out. More frequently, he’d seen a manipulative smile.

  Another sign, he hoped, that she’d truly changed.

  He excused himself, then dialed Ash’s number while stepping back inside.

  “Hey, Daddy-o,” Ash said, answering on the first ring. “What’s up?”

  Damien chuckled. “You sound upbeat.”

  “Just had a great meeting for the power system. Pretty sure I’ve landed my final investor.”

  “Congratulations,” Damien said, meaning it. In truth, he’d wanted to invest himself. But Ashton—his son—had wanted to go it alone. To prove he could. And damned if Damien hadn’t understood that. “That’s an incredible feeling.”

  “It really is. But unless you’re clairvoyant, you didn’t call to congratulate me.”

  “No, that’s just a pleasant bonus. I was wondering when you’d be back in the country. The reporter is here, and really wants us to get some photos together. Plus she wants to interview you.”

  “This whole dog and pony show is supposed to help promote the Sports Center, right? So a big deal for you and Uncle Jax?”

  “That’s about the whole of it.”

  “Well, I guess I’m your favorite son, then. Too bad for Bradley. I can be in LA by lunch tomorrow.”

  “I’d appreciate it.”

  “Not a problem. To be honest I was already thinking about it. To see you and Nik and the kids. But I’m happy to have you feel indebted to me. Maybe you’ll raise my allowance?”

  “We’ll negotiate,” Damien said with a laugh, once again amazed and thrilled this man had found his way back into his life.

  “So what’s this reporter’s name?”

  “Maggie Bridge.”

  “Magdalena Bridge? Magdalena Spicer?”

  Dread crawled up Damien’s spine. “You know her?”

  “Know her? We went out once after she interviewed me for an article about the system. Now she’s showing up at events I’m at. Basically stalking me. And she’s—it doesn’t matter. But no way am I getting close to her.”

  “I don’t blame you,” Damien said, working to control his temper. “I’ll cancel the article.”

  “No, no. Don’t do that. Truth is, she’s a solid reporter. I’ve read her stuff. But she’s a nutcase on the personal side. But that doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

  “No, but I’m keeping the topic of you out of the overall interview. If she has a vendetta, how unbiased do you think this article will be?”

  “Good point. Your call. I do want to come see you and Nikki. And my brother and sisters,” he added. “Maybe next weekend? After she’s out of your hair?”

  “I’ll tell the kids. They’ll be thrilled. In the meantime, can I help get her off your back?”
br />   “I’ve got it under control,” he said, in a way that made Damien think there was no control whatsoever.

  “Ash … you know you don’t have to handle things alone now.”

  “Still getting used to that. Thanks. But seriously, I think she’ll run down soon. Bottom line, I shut the door. She’s just trying to push it open. But it’s locked tight.”

  “Well, I’m here if you need me.”

  “I know. And Dad? That feels pretty good.”

  A Letter to Ashton

  Dear Ashton,

  * * *

  I hope I don’t regret sending this. I hope you don’t feel awkward receiving it. But I ran across this journal entry from last year, and am enclosing a photocopy.

  * * *

  I wrote it the day after I learned the truth. And long before you trusted me.

  * * *

  Come visit soon. We miss you.

  Love,

  * * *

  Journal Entry:

  * * *

  How many years ago was it that I said I would no longer keep a journal. Rather, I would simply record key events as an aid to memory.

  * * *

  There wasn’t enough time in the day to take the time to examine what was happening around me. To me. Or so I thought.

  * * *

  Perhaps I was a fool then, thinking that the events in my life were worthy only of a mention. A one-line notion with the sole purpose of helping to recall some event, but not enough to rouse the emotions those events stirred.

  * * *

  Perhaps with some things, that is that is a blessing.

  * * *

  With Ashton, though, I think I want the full memories. The full emotions. Bittersweet and wonderful. Challenging and exhilarating.

  Ashton Stone. My son.

  * * *

  But even this entry may be useless when I read it at some future time. It’s been over a day now, and I’m still not sure all of what I’m feeling. Joy? I can’t deny it. Fear? Absolutely. Confusion? Most definitely.

  * * *

  There is anger, too, because Ashton exists only because of what Merle Richter did. What he forced me and Sofia to do. The way he bound us together, more than friends and not really lovers. Too young to fight back, but not too young to want to. Old enough to know that what he had us doing was wrong, but too reliant on him to do anything about it. And old enough to know that despite the wretchedness, there was some comfort there for the both of us.

  * * *

  And Sofia … did she even know Ash existed? That he’d grown inside her?

  * * *

  I don’t know. She carried him, of course, but she was so young. So broken. And there are women who go full-term in a pregnancy and never understand what is happening. Women who block the memory of giving birth and the child altogether.

  * * *

  As sad as it may be, I can see that path for Sofia. And, of course, the other tragedy is that I cannot even ask her if she knew. Or if she hated me for it.

  * * *

  I regret so much what she went through. What we both went through.

  * * *

  But the horror of that time gave me another son, and while I know this must be hard for him, I can’t help but feel joy. And hope that one day he understands that I didn’t abandon him. On the contrary, I had no idea he existed. Now that I do, all I want is to get to know him. To make up for lost time.

  * * *

  And yet the joy I feel is tinged with guilt and with fear. The guilt has no basis. I know what Richter did. I know the maze that bastard had thrown Sofia and I in. I know that it is not my fault that Ashton believes I turned my back on him.

  * * *

  So I’ll let myself feel it and then move on.

  * * *

  But what I can’t move on from is Nikki. The feeling that somehow I’ve betrayed her.

  * * *

  Intellectually, I know it’s not true. And yet despite this intellect of mine that has so often been praised, I can’t back myself away emotionally. The fear that I’ve inadvertently hurt her is like a knife through my soul, and even though it is Nikki that I fear I’ve hurt, I also know that it is Nikki I need to push past my own guilt. And Nikki with whom I want to revel in this miracle.

  * * *

  Perhaps the real miracle will be if I can read these pages years from now. Already, the pages are stained with tears, the ink running.

  * * *

  I so rarely cry. Beat the shit out of a punching bag, sure. Lose myself in Nikki, hell yes. But cry?

  * * *

  I suppose that is one more way Ashton has changed my life. And right now my most fervent wish is that he won’t hate me forever. And I will do anything in my power to make my own wish come true.

  I lean against the tiled wall and watch him, this man who is so much more than physical beauty. He’s strength and intelligence, commanding and tender. He’s honorable and strong, fierce and loyal.

  And he loves me.

  * * *

  - Hold Me

  Chapter 5: Ground Rules

  When Damien returned to the pool deck, he headed straight for Maggie. He wanted to shake her. To ask her what the hell she’d done to Ash. What game she was playing. But he didn’t. There were ways to play games, and right now he was playing to get through these interviews, to get this woman out of his home, and to go on about his life.

  “I’m sorry, but Ash can’t get back into the country in time to do the interview.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry to hear that. He would have been an asset for the article.”

  “I’m sure he would have been,” Damien said.

  “So are we ready to start with the photos?”

  “I think so. But before we continue, I wanted to set some ground rules. And I want you to know that any deviation from these rules will cause me to reject the article. I have veto power. You remember that, right?”

  She looked at him quizzically. “Has something happened?”

  “What could have happened? I just want to speak to you without my wife and kids around. I don’t want there to be any misunderstandings, Lena.”

  “Of course not.” Her expression was all innocence. But he knew her well enough to see the hardness in her eyes.

  “I want it clear that if you try to use anything from these interviews elsewhere—verbatim or exaggerated—I will use every resource at my disposal to see that your life becomes very, very miserable.”

  “Damien, I—”

  “Mr. Stark. For today, I’m Mr. Stark. Nikki is Mrs. Stark.”

  “I—well, of course. I thought we’d gotten the past out of the way and—”

  “Let me be clear. I’m agreeing to this interview despite our history because I was assured you would comply with certain terms. I intend to make sure my conditions are maintained.”

  “Well, of course they will be. I agreed, didn’t I?”

  “Good. Then let me stress that I will not be talking about what happened to me and Sofia. Nothing about Merle Richter. You won’t be getting a deep, emotional interview about those days. If you want to write about it, there was plenty of coverage during the trial. You can plow through old articles from here and in Germany. But I won’t speak of it. Are we clear?”