The Billionaire and the Virgin (The Billionaires 1)

Chapter 1

H

June 2004

“Henry, when can I take this blindfold off? I swear I’ll trip over in a minute and squash the baby.”

“A few more steps, honey, and there’s no way I’m going to let you do anything that will harm a hair on either your’s or our son’s head.”

I guided her further from the car down to the driveway until Veronica faced the door.

“Ready?” I asked. “I’m going to remove the blindfold, so it might take a moment to adjust to the light.”

“Hurry, Henry. I’m so goddamn excited.”

I removed the blindfold and my wife gasped. In front of her was the front door of a nine-bedroom house in East Hampton. She took a few steps back and swung around, taking in the enormous yard, then back to the front of the house. She was yet to notice the separate three-bedroom annex and when we eventually walked through the house, she’d see there was a pool house to the rear.

“Henry, what is this?” She asked. My wife was always cautious, she never assumed anything, never took anything for granted.

“This, honey,” I replied, taking her in my arms and stroking her honey-blonde hair, is our new family home. That’s if it meets your approval once we’ve been inside.”

“But, it’s so huge. There’s only the two of us…” She placed her hands across her stomach, “For another five months, anyhow.”

I kissed the top of her forehead. “Our son is just the start. Let’s see how many of the rest of the seven guest bedrooms we’ll be able to fill.”

She laughed at that. Her green eyes glistened with unshed tears. The baby hormones had been making her very emotional of late. “You’d better take me inside to look at it then,” she moved out of my arms and grabbed my hand instead.

I took her through every room one by one. Through the living room with its vast windows that flooded the room with light, with sea-blue couches reminding us that the beach was only a few minutes away. An archway led through to a dining room, with a mirror-topped table that seated ten, and then through again to a magnificent white kitchen. But of course, what I was now desperate to show her was our master suite - a large room painted white, with floor to ceiling windows adjacent to patio doors that led out onto our own private balcony with a stunning view of the ocean.

“Henry, this is too much.” Veronica told me.

“Vee, we came from nothing. Built ourselves up from rock bottom, worked our asses off and now we get to enjoy the benefits of our investments paying off.”

“I guess so,” she looked out at the view. “And it sure is pretty. We get WiFi here okay though, don’t we?”

“Yes, my workaholic wife. You’ll be able to run your property empire from whichever room in the house you decide to turn into your office.”

“I like to keep busy.” She said and then she clutched her head. “Ooooh.” She clutched my arm. “Wow, that hurt.”

“You okay?” I said, and I led her to the edge of the bed. Vee had always suffered with tension headaches, an unfortunate side effect of the stresses of running a billion dollar business, but the last couple of days she’d been complaining more.

“I’m going to ring Doctor Anderson later.” I told her. “It could be due to your blood pressure.”

“You fuss too much.” She said. “I’m just going to freshen up in the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

“You sure you’re fine?” I asked again and was given a narrow-eyed glare. I raised my hands in surrender. “Backing off.”

“Good.” She smiled. “I love you, Henry Carter, but I’m an independent woman and I can splash water on my face all by myself.”

“I can’t wait for you to see the bathroom.” I said. It was enormous with a free standing bath and separate steam room amongst other luxuries.

Vee had been in the bathroom for a few minutes when I called out to check she was okay. Yes I fussed, yes she could just get used to it. When there was no response, I hurried over to the room, fully expecting her to chastise me once again for fussing.

But she didn’t.

My beautiful wife was slumped on the floor.

I’d not heard her fall because the house was so damn large.

They told me afterward that even if I had heard her I’d have been too late. An undiagnosed brain tumor had taken my beautiful wife. Our baby boy died too inside his mother’s womb at eighteen weeks old.

I lost my wife.

I lost my son.

I lost my ability to love.

My world was gone and with it went my hopes and dreams.

Instead of celebrating life, we mourned the death of a woman taken too soon, and that of my son, taken before he even had the chance to take an independent breath.

I stood at the graveside with Vee’s mother, father, stepfather and her young stepsister. Amelia was just nine years old and spent the entire funeral inconsolable, wrapped in the arms of her parents. I stood beside Vee’s father, who’d never remarried after separating from her mother.

“I’ll never love anyone else.” I told him.

“We’ll understand if you do.” He said, then he looked at his ex-wife, “But I never did.”

I put the house straight back on the market and sold it to the first people who offered on it. I didn’t give a damn what I got for it, I just needed it gone.

I kept the business going. I owed it to my beautiful wife to work my ass off to keep our property empire growing.

Years passed.

I had needs.

I visited a sex club, and I had my needs met, with no strings.

Never again would I marry or try for a family.

I bought the club and named it Club S.

Everyone thought Club S stood for Club Sex.