Page 29 of Not My Billionaire


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James

When I walk out to the podium, my heart stops beating entirely. Standing between Camilla and Tyler and looking out into the audience is Alexis. Her face is flat and unreadable, and she doesn’t look at me when I come in. She looks different, regal in the designer gown and fancy makeup. Still, underneath it all, she’s Alexis, and she’s here.

I hesitate, then walk up the steps. The grand ballroom of my Miami hotel has been converted into a memorial conference for my parents. Their photos are lined with flowers, and candles surround the room on sconces. I don’t know how the licensing for all this was pulled off, considering the blatant fire hazards, but it does look lovely despite the sickly fluorescent lights.

When I reach the podium, my speech is already there. It’s mostly talking points that I’ve memorized, but there are a few bits of flowery language that someone else was hired to write. None of it feels genuine. Nobody is here to actually mourn my parents. They’re all here to see if I’m going to destroy the empire they built. Will the trust fund kid mess this up?

I place my hands on the podium to brace myself. I can feel Alexis behind me, and I want nothing more than to take her hand and run away. She doesn’t want that, though. Why is she even here?

“Robert and Pamela Preston were the best people I knew,” I say, regurgitating the words that I’ve been practicing since yesterday afternoon. It’s just a speech, meaningless in the long run. I just need to seem competent for five minutes. That’s all. After that, Lady Gaga is gonna sing a song, and then I can go home.

“Before they had any money, they lived in a small rental in the Iowa countryside. My father—” a lump forms in my throat, “—had the idea to open a hotel along the interstate where there wasn’t one. The most expensive thing he owned was this watch, which his father won in a bet.” It’s a story I’ve heard a million times. I could tell it in my sleep, so why is it hurting me so much now? “My mother used to carry me in a sling on her back while she cleaned rooms and checked in guests. From there, they grew Preston Enterprises, a multi-billion dollar corporation.”

It’s all just information that everyone already knows. I look around the room, trying to find a single familiar face, anyone who might actually care. The only ones who might are standing behind me, unable to comfort me. My next words freeze up in my throat. I try to clear it, then try again, but nothing is working. Tears well in my eyes, and heat rises on my face. I look down at the speech, but the words don’t make sense, all a blur on the page.

Before I can totally break down, Tyler leaps forward and takes the microphone. “And what a company it is, right? Hi, I’m Tyler Richards, and I’m here to sing you a song.” Despite the fact that he doesn’t drink, he slurs his words and stumbles. I get a whiff of alcohol despite his sobriety. He’d been perfectly fine a moment ago, and confusion washes over me.

He unbuttons his suit jacket and tosses it into the audience like he’s some sort of rockstar doing his fans a favor, and then he goes into a warbled rendition of Danny Boy. Isn’t that what Gaga was supposed to sing?

Camilla grabs my arm and leads me off the stage, and when I glance back at Tyler, he gives me a grin. Well, he did say he was willing to make a scene. Pointing at the hired string quartet, he shouts, “Can I get some help up here?”

That’s the last thing I hear before I’m led out the door into a concrete service corridor, and a hand tangles in mine. I look over, shocked. I hadn’t even noticed Alexis following us, and her touch is like fire, bringing me back to Earth.

“Are you okay?” she mumbles.

Finally, I allow the tears to fall, and she pulls me into her arms.

***

Alexis

I liked Tyler the moment we were introduced in the employee break room, which is near the conference room. He was sitting on one of the tables, feet in a chair.

“You must be Alexis,” he said with a grin, walking over and wrapping me in a familiar sort of hug before apologizing for suggesting the proposal. He then proceeded to tell me all the most embarrassing stories of James he could think of from college before we were led out to the stage, where he mumbled that he was really hoping he would be able to make a scene. I thought it was a joke, but apparently he’s happy to take that bullet for James.

Security officers rushed the stage just as Camilla was dragging James and me away, and I worry that Tyler might end up a little worse for wear before the day is over.

Right now, though, I have someone else to worry about. James completely froze up on stage, and I pull him into my arms. He clutches at the back of my dress, pressing his face into my shoulder as sobs wrack his body.

The man in the hall, one of the bodyguards that was hired to watch over me, averts his eyes, for which I’m thankful.

“I’ll have the car brought around,” Camilla says, striding off to give us some space.

“It’s alright,” I mumble, brushing my hands through James’s recently-cut hair. “You did fine. It’s over now.”

He shakes his head, and, through his sobs, he manages to get out, “I miss them so much.”

My heart breaks for him. I hadn’t considered the reasons he wanted to protect me so badly, but now, everything clicks into place. He wants to keep me close, to keep me from facing the same fate of his parents. Does he feel responsible for their loss somehow?

“I know,” I say, continuing to pet his hair. I don’t know what else I can do to help, but for now, this seems to be enough.

We stand like that for a while, at least until Camilla comes over and leads us out to the parking garage through the service exit. There’s nobody around when we walk out, and we get into the same Rolls Royce as yesterday without interruption.

Camilla sits in the front and puts up the dividing screen, and James turns. I think he’s going to avoid me, but he takes a tissue from a compartment and wipes his face.

“Sorry about that,” he says, his voice low and gruff.

I shake my head. “No, you don’t need to apologize.” As the car begins to move, I have no idea where we might be going. My room is upstairs, although Camilla promised she’d get my bags into the trunk for me before the service. For just a second, panic flutters inside me as I wonder if we’re going to the airport. Then, I shut those feelings down. I’m the one who asked to leave, after all.

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