Chapter 8

EIGHT

The time I became a billionaire

The empty glass of scotch sits on the table beside me.

It’s an expensive bottle, aged to perfection and gifted from a client as a thank you. Receiving gifts isn’t out of the ordinary, but at least this gift is useful, unlike the other worthless crap people think I’ll enjoy.

The bottle is half empty, sitting on the glass table of this drab hotel room. I’ve always despised airport hotels’ bland interiors and ridiculously small square footage. Sure, it’s supposed to be a place just to crash, but why not sleep in style.

You’re almost a billionaire. Make it happen.

Billionaire—the word has a delicious ring to it. The power and control lure me in with promises of a better life.

My eyes glance toward my watch to note the time. I need to leave soon to board my flight to London. I’d done this route many times, but this time it’s for good.

The last three years have been under my grandfather’s watch. Everything I’ve learned is because of him.

Alfred Edwards is a mogul, yet to me, he was just the grandfather who would shower me with presents on my birthday and Christmas. Occasionally, he would visit, much to my father’s annoyance.

I barely knew the man, though he always made an effort to be friendly and ask me questions about my interests, such as sports.

Then, it all changed.

He paid me a visit one night after I’d left Samantha. It wasn’t a great night. I was alone and miserable with a job at the hospital I started to lose interest in. I’m not sure who informed him of my miseries, or maybe his timing was just right.

It was an offer I couldn’t refuse to step into his position of Chairman. At first, I declined the offer, not knowing much about business since I’d studied medicine. Yet, he offered to shadow his steps and to give as much time as needed to learn the role.

At this time, I had no idea he had been diagnosed with colorectal cancer. He hadn’t appeared sick or showed any signs of the illness.

But he knew his mortality, and he refused to give away all his hard work to money-grabbing leeches who weren’t family.

Alfred Edwards wanted his legacy to live on.

My life, from that moment, changed forever.

With this newfound power came a new existence. I thrived on money and everything it represented. I wasn’t afraid to own the boardroom nor let anyone control my actions. I’m no longer indebted to any woman. At least, none who will destroy me.

My thoughts run rampant, so I decide to get out of this hell hole and straight to the airport. It’s better to be surrounded by strangers and noise than to wallow in self-pity like I’m a fool trapped in mistakes.

JFK is busy as usual, with people running around in chaos, trying to rush to the gates to make their flight. I’m glad to have time on my hands, leisurely taking each step without the stress of the announcements blaring over the PA system.

My stay in Manhattan had been short, just a few days to tie up some loose ends before London. There was an opportunity to stay long-term in Manhattan, but I wasn’t in the mood to live on the East Coast. A part of me just wanted to be anywhere but here.

It takes a good thirty minutes to clear security, even with my business class ticket. With my passport and ticket in hand, I make my way to the gate and straight to the priority passengers’ line.

“Flight 789 to London to now boarding priority passengers. Please come forward to board the flight,” the hostess announces over the speaker.

I grab the handle of the small black carry-on suitcase beside me and form part of the short line.

London. A faraway place, but a chance to forget about my past and the nightmares which plague me. Of late, the nightmares have reoccurred almost every night. Coincidently, this only happens in Manhattan, which is odd since I’d never been here with her to be able to create any memories.

Her… I can’t even say her fucking name anymore.

The line moves quickly from checking our boarding passes to walking down the ramp to the front of the plane. I stop as some passengers make small talk with the captain and hostess.

When I’m finally at the front, I give a simply nod as the hostess eyes me like a piece of candy. She’s not bad, but I’m not in the mood. Something about this trip is bothering me, and the last thing I need is pussy.

Maybe that’s exactly what you need.

The seating area has pod-style cubicles, which is great for ignoring everyone else. Reaching down, I lift my suitcase and slide it into the overhead compartment above me. Then, I take a seat and get myself settled.

My eyes shift toward the tarmac outside the window, gazing with a heaviness inside my chest.

It’s been four years.

A long time, or maybe too little time to move on from the past.

I wonder where she is, what she’s doing. She isn’t back home, nor has she been for the last four years. My parents still owned their home, and I’m certain my mother would have told my sister, who then would have mentioned something to me.

After Adriana and I visited her mother, it was clear I was to stay away. She had moved on.

My Charlotte had found happiness elsewhere.

On occasion, I toyed with the idea of hiring a private investigator, but what would I say even if I found her? The damage is done. If I saw her with another man, I wouldn’t be able to control my jealousy. All it’d do is make her resent me even more. No matter what I do, I’m the loser in all of this.

The phone rings inside my pocket, forcing me to retrieve it to answer. My gaze falls upon the caller ID as I expel a small grunt before answering.

“Yes,” is all I say.

“I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to you,” Adriana whines.

“I was busy.”

“C’mon, Alex.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Sorry, Lex.” I almost hear her roll her eyes. “I wish you would have stopped by to see our place. You were only a cab ride away.”

Adriana had recently graduated with Elijah, and they moved in together. For every milestone she’s reached, I thought about Charlotte. Somewhere out there, she would have graduated.

I choose not to acknowledge Adriana’s comment. The last four years have been strained between us. I’m not innocent. It’s because every time I’m with Adriana, I half-expect to see Charlotte by her side. I knew I had to distance myself when it all became too much.

“Listen, I need to go.”

“Lex?” Adriana calls.

My hand moves toward my face as I pinch the bridge of my nose in frustration. “Yes.”

“Good luck in London. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

The call ends, leaving me to ponder on her last comment.

What I’m looking for are peace and quiet. A break from the guilt which eats away at me every day I wake up. I’m done fighting these demons, ready for change and a life of solitude that will suit me just fine.

And just as quickly as the call ended, the plane took off into the sky for my next journey.

* * *

My assistant, Kate, holds the large boardroom doors open as I walk in, dressed in a new Armani suit.

Kate started only yesterday, and so far, no complaints on my end. She’s young but obeys my commands and doesn’t appear threatened like the other pathetic employees who run and hide the moment I step into the office.

Inside the boardroom, everyone stands at my arrival. Most of them I know from my previous visits. All but one man who stands on my right.

“Bentley James Woods,” he introduces while extending his hand.

I shake his hand politely. “Lex Edwards.”

Everyone takes a seat as I promptly start the meeting. The time goes fast as meetings do when there’s a lot to cover. Before I know it, it’s after five, and everyone is ready to call it a day. Not me since my working days usually end close to midnight. It’s not like I have a family or partner to go home to, so why not work hard and make more money.

“So, you up for a pint tonight?” Bentley asks, catching me by surprise.

“A pint,” I repeat, rubbing my chin. “I guess I better get used to this English slang.”

Bentley pats my shoulder with a chuckle. “Bloody yanks, it’s like nothing exists outside of America. What ya need is a pub and a good pint to call it a day.”

I welcome Bentley’s humor. It beats all the boring chit-chat from the other executives sitting in the room.

“A pub and pint sound good, Bentley,” I tell him.

He nods with a smile. “By the way, call me BJ. It’s less formal, and Bentley is also my father’s name. I’d rather no association with him.”

The corners of my lips curve upward into a slight smirk. It appears I’m not the only person who doesn’t have a nurturing relationship with their father.

“BJ, interesting choice of initials,” I muse.

BJ leans over, quickly checking to make sure Kate has left the room. “Don’t be fooled, mate. It’s a conversation starter with women and equates to exactly that, a blow job.”

A small chuckle escapes me. “Maybe London isn’t so bad.”

With a knowing grin, BJ closes his laptop. “You’re in good hands. Trust me, you’re going to see another side to this town you never knew existed.”