I nodded and she started jumping up and down in her seat and giggling with excitement.
“Eyes on the road, Ashley!” I yelled as the car swerved with every giggle.
“Is he as handsome in real life as he is in the pictures? Did you go out on his yacht? What parties did you go to?”
“I hate to disappoint you, but we mostly sat on the beach and talked,” I said. And he kisses like heaven and can turn my body to happy mush in 3.5 seconds. “I actually didn’t even know who he was until the last day.”
“What!? You didn’t recognize the most eligible billionaire bachelor? The prince that all Cinderellas are waiting for? And all you did was sit on a beach? No yacht? Are you serious?” The car swerved again.
“Road, Ashley. And no, I didn’t recognize him. I don’t read this stuff like you do,” I said, holding up the magazine. “I knew he had money, but he seemed like a normal guy.”
“Normal? Emma, honey, he is so much more than normal.” She looked over at me like I had said that chocolate was the most disgusting food on the planet. I sighed.
“You want to tell me all about him, don’t you?”
“Well, despite marrying the guy, you obviously know nothing about him.” Ashley veered around an SUV and shrugged apologetically at the driver as we zoomed past.
“Okay. Tell me.”
“The Press calls him ‘The Prince’. He is the son of a super wealthy oil prospector and is set to inherit the billions that is DS Oil and Gas, as well as a bunch of other little companies his father invested in. He tries to keep a low profile, but he is considered a bit of a playboy. There is always a different model on his arm for every society function. Not a whole lot is known about him, other than his good looks, boyish charm, and that he is practically made of money. Oh, and that he loves hamburgers.”
“Hamburgers, huh? I’ll keep that in mind.”
I stared down at the magazine in my hands. The photo was obviously taken from a distance, but it captured our kiss. I felt the ache in my chest threatening to consume me, but I couldn’t look away from the photograph. I didn’t see a man with wealth. I only saw Jack. I traced my finger along the curve of his cheek, remembering the warmth of his skin.
“Rumor is his dad is sick. He wasn’t supposed to take over the company until after his 31st birthday, but as you probably know, he is barely 29 and everything is going into motion to make him CEO.”
“He didn’t mention his dad. He said this was his last vacation before having to take over,” I said quietly, my eyes glued to his photograph.
“Well, yeah. It is kind of a big deal, Emma. He has his work cut out for him. This transition wasn’t supposed to take place for almost another 2 years and things are kind of a mess,” Ashley said as she veered around another car. She launched into business degree mode, the passion in her life other than tabloids and reality TV. The words sounded English, but I gave up trying to understand after the word “fiscal”. She had plenty to say on the subject, and I let her jabber on how difficult this particular transition was going to be while I stared at the glossy magazine pages.
“Whoa! I think somebody is at your apartment. You want to come stay at my place? Talk some more?” Ashley slowed to a stop in front of my building. Three black SUVs with tinted windows stood collecting snow in the visitor parking. I bit my lip and played with the ripped pocket on my coat. I didn’t want another run in with the press like at the airport, but I didn’t see much of a choice.
“I don’t have anything but my suitcase full of bathing suits,” I said slowly as a gust of wind flung snow at the windshield. “I’ll be fine. Besides, my landlord loves calling the cops. If she gets the chance to throw somebody out, it’ll make her week. Thanks for the ride though,” I said, zipping my jacket up under my chin like a suit of armor.
“Okay, but if you need anything, you call. Hey, Emma,...” Ashley eyed the SUVs and then turned and gave me a hug. “Be careful okay? I know I sound all excited that you married a billionaire, but he is known as a playboy. He is responsible for a lot of broken hearts. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Aw, Ashley. Thanks. I think I’ll be okay though. This was only supposed to be a vacation fling anyway. I’m sure it will all blow over in a couple of days.” I gave her an extra squeeze and then pulled the collar of my jacket up to brave the cold.
“Lunch tomorrow?” Ashley asked as I prepared myself to open the door into the freezing storm.
“I have work, but what about drinks after? I’ll tell you all about my trip.”
Ashley beamed. “It’s a date.”
I fought to open the car door, the snow and ice blowing angrily around the heat of the car. I grabbed my bag and lugged it up the front steps, tucking my head like a turtle into the collar of my coat. The keys were freezing in my bare hands, but I opened the door and stepped inside, turning to wave at Ashley. No reporters yet at least.
Ashley waved back and slowly pulled out of the lot and off towards her house once she saw the front door unlock. A huge man in a black suit stood at the entrance to the hallway, but he made no move to stop me or take my picture, so I ignored him. The hall to my door seemed lonelier than usual, but my hands were too cold for me to care. I fumbled with the keys again and pushed open the door to my apartment, ready for a hot shower and some food.
Chapter 10
“You made good time,” an attractive woman said as I walked in the door. She stood gracefully, a fitted pinstripe suit
accenting her tall frame. Her dark hair was pulled back into a tight bun, her stylish square glasses accentuating her jaw line. The door swung on its hinges behind me as I forgot to close it. The suitcase clattered to the floor and I stood there facing at the official looking woman in my living room.
“Who are you? How did you get in here? And what the hell is going on?” I wanted to scream. I wanted to run into my bedroom and lock the door. I was jet lagged and travel weary, and my head was still spinning from the airport; a stranger in my locked apartment was not something I wanted to deal with right now.
“My name is Rachel Weber. I’m Jack Saunders’ personal assistant. Your landlord, Mrs. Jenkins, let me in. She was very nice, though very eager to tell me she would call the police if there was any trouble. What ‘the hell’ is going on is that I am here to bring you to New York.” She said it as though it were all very simple and straightforward. I could feel my jaw hanging open again.