A battle began inside her.
Chapter 3
Jim
Jim was so lost in his thoughts, it took him a while to realize he was no longer alone in his bubble.
He’d been slightly aware of the brief gazes of several women during his time at the bar, but he figured he looked so unapproachable, that no one had the courage to get closer just yet.
But suddenly his senses were assaulted by a heavenly scent, and the perfume of the woman who squeezed next to him made him turn toward the source of it.
His heart skipped a beat as he took the lovely woman in, grateful for the distraction.
He had been beating himself up—not regretting refusing to go through with the wedding, but dreading the domino effect of his actions, and chastising himself for the problems to come as a result of his abandonment.
In his heart, he knew he made the right decision, but his head wasn’t letting him go without a vicious fight.
You’re gonna lose everything, a nasty little voice chided him. Your dad’s going to disown you. The company will take a hit all because of your selfishness. Everyone will hate you for wasting their time, their money...
And then there the beautiful stranger was, smiling at him and inviting him to unload.
The somewhat shy-looking brown beauty managed to immediately dissolve the last of his guilt by merely existing.
Suddenly, his thoughts were no longer on the wedding or any of the attending parties; his brain-space was filled by the lovely young woman gazing at him with warm brown eyes.
He felt forgiven of everything in that moment, even if she had no idea what her openness absolved him of.
Well, time to tell her—see if she’s still smiling then.
“I was supposed to get married tonight but took off, leaving my intended bride at the altar.”
He felt the woman tense up and couldn’t look at her as her face transformed, no doubt with shock. Possibly even horror.
He took a swig of his drink, then shook his head, still avoiding her eyes.
“It’s a girl’s worst nightmare, right? Getting jilted? The thing is, I’m not sure if she’ll be madder about the public humiliation, or more hurt about losing me—although I doubt it’s the latter.”
He could still see the woman out of the corner of his eyes, and her vanished smile made him regret his words; he couldn’t bear being thought of as a jerk by the first genuinely friendly face he’d registered all evening.
“Okay, let me start over before you get too disgusted with me: the wedding sort of represented a merger—her family with mine; a symbolic thing between my family and hers in preparation for a move toward a conglomerate. Neither of us were particularly emotionally invested in the whole thing, but our union was a big deal to our parents. I thought I could do it—ignore the fact that I had no real feelings for her for the sake of the company, the family, but…” He shook his head. “Triple C will have to do without my part in this case.”
He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination, but she seemed to relax a bit, looking relieved.
“Triple C?” she queried neutrally.
“Craig & Craig Capital.”
“Oh. Well, I’m sorry to hear it didn’t work out, but it sounds like you did the right thing for your peace of mind. Sure, it’s terribly embarrassing for her—I’d die if something like that happened to me—but I’m glad you got out of it while it was still relatively early. Things could have ended up a whole lot worse later.”
He smiled at her, examining her face.
He found no sign of hidden judgment; she wasn’t just being polite.
His smile grew.
“Kind of you to say. What’s your name, beautiful stranger?”
He could tell she blushed—it showed even against her brown skin and she could barely look at him properly anymore.
It pleased him to see his effect on her.
“I’m Maribel,” she said, keeping her eyes on her drink. “Yours?”
“Jim,” he said, watching her more intently.
He saw the moment it all clicked.
Normally, he wouldn’t be so loose about who he was—especially to pretty females who then seemed to see him as nothing but a potential ticket to some sort of payout—but he couldn’t help it. The liquor had loosened his tongue and Maribel’s warm demeanor made him want to connect with her and get more of what she was giving him—her attention, her approval.
He could have given her a fake name, but part of him hoped that if she had a hint who he was, maybe she’d stay longer.
He almost shook his head at himself.
He’d wanted so badly to keep those lovely, open eyes of hers on him that he actually name-dropped for the first time in hopes of scoring more points and gaining her interest.
He almost regretted it immediately, though—how lame was that?
Then again, one of the most eligible bachelors had just jilted a socialite—Maribel would have heard about him sooner or later, and he was glad to get his side out before the media smeared him.
“Jim Craig,” she almost whispered. “Before two days ago, that name would have meant nothing but the name of a great-looking guy I met at some bar drowning his sorrows.”
“Before two days ago?” he asked, trying to ignore the warmth rushing through him at her casual reference to him being good-looking.
“I recently moved here from Alabama,” she said. “Where I’m from, you’re not exactly known, sorry to say. Back there, if you’re not Brad Pitt…”
She shrugged.
He noticed her eyes had come alive even more than before, her atoms seemingly wild as her body pulsed and vibrated with new energy.
Was it all she’d see him as now? Jim Craig—heir to a billion-dollar fortune? Had he screwed up letting her know? Would she turn into yet another gold-digger after all?
Somehow, the thought didn’t bother him as much this time.
Beyond the nudge in his pants, he wanted to get to know more about this woman.
But damn it, before he had a chance to glimpse the real her, he ruined it in his excitement.
“I probably should have stayed anon,” he said regretfully.
“No, I appreciate you being upfront with me. I, um…” she hesitated, and he wondered what all was going through her mind.
“What’s going to happen now that you’ve rejected the union?” she asked softly.
He shrugged. “Dad will probably disown me. Even if he doesn’t go that far, he might just cut me off from this company. He’ll have to be careful about appearances—he built up such a focus on family. As for Lucy, I suppose she’ll just move on to the next eligible billionaire.”
“How did you guys meet?”
He didn’t blame her now. How could she not be curious about every part of the story?
He rarely opened up to anyone besides his sister and his best friend Scott, but here was a chance to unload on a stranger.
What was the worst she could do?
Even if she repeated anything to her own friends, gossip and speculation came with the territory, and as usual, it was just one person’s word against another.
His family had money and power, and one of the best PR teams money could buy. Anything that came out about them, true or not, positive or negative, could be spun in their favor.
He turned fully toward the young beauty with the sparkling brown eyes and began to unload.
* * *
Maribel
Maribel couldn’t believe her luck; she had a career-making scoop right at her fingertips.
She could barely contain her excitement—what a perfect story!
It was as if Christmas had come early.
What were the chances she’d end up meeting one of the most eligible billionaires and that he’d be willing to tell her his tale?
She could become a well-known name just like that.
Oh, god—she was obligated to tell him her status, wasn’t she?
He had no idea she was a journali
st—shouldn’t she warn him?
Of course not. What the hell are you thinking? He’d clam up for sure, she reminded herself. You’re not thinking like a reporter at all.
Still, she felt obligated to give him a heads up.
She wasn’t sure she would have had this conflict otherwise, but she felt a deep connection to him—an empathy that wanted him to feel free to unload his pain—and she didn’t want to feel like she was lying to him.
Either way, he had already started talking, so she held on to his every word.
Every detail about his fiancée and her family and his own family she etched into her brain, wishing she could pull out a pen and take notes.
But she was young and had a pretty good memory.
By the time he was done, she knew she could easily have an article signed, sealed, and delivered by the next day.
But as she gazed into the face of the unburdened man before her, she wasn’t sure she could do it.
Why not? an inner voice asked. Men like him had everything handed to them. He’s just some entitled corporate asshole.
Maribel couldn’t disagree—she knew that no matter what happened, he’d be fine—upper-crust white men like him always were.
No matter the scandal, communities were always willing to open their arms to them.