The Grey Billionaire Series: Secrets and Lies

CHRIS

“Where are you headed?” I question, my arms folded across my chest.

I’ve made a promise to keep Charlotte safe while she’s in New York, a promise to her manager and to myself.

Charlotte’s been sober for a few months now. She’s just started working again and there’s a palpable tension that something might go wrong.

I’ve vowed to keep a watchful eye on her. I’d rather have her close, where I can intervene if I see signs of a relapse. Maybe with time, she’ll remember what she’s forgotten. I hold onto the hope that she’ll return to her old self.

I know that walking on eggshells around her hasn’t helped. I also know that scaring her into remembering won’t help either.

So here I am, stuck in the middle, a worried friend and a concerned ex. I can’t bear the thought of another relapse.

I stand by the door, arms still crossed, my gaze fixed on her.

She’s smiling, the kind of smile that usually reassures me she’s okay. I try to relax, but the anxiety is still there, the worry that something might go wrong.

“Chris, you’re suffocating me,” she protests, her lips forming a pout. “My manager hovers over me at work, my uncle does the same at home. I don’t need this from you too.” Her big brown eyes well up as she pleads with me.

I know I should trust her. That’s what the therapist said. But it’s easier said than done. All I want to do is lock her in a room and throw away the key.

I blame myself for her drug use. We both experimented in college. I didn’t like it and stopped after a couple of tries. But Charlotte, she got hooked.

Maybe using after her parents’ sudden death was a bad idea. She didn’t grieve properly. Every time she felt sad, she would reach for the temporary comfort drugs provided.

When she got pregnant, she tried to quit. I was hopeful things would get better between us. They say a baby changes things, and it did, for a while.

“I’m going shopping for a dress. Happy? You have your suit, and I have nothing to wear tonight. I want to look hot. I’ll keep my phone on loud, you can call me every five minutes if that makes you feel better,” she proposes, and I frown.

“Or… I could just go with you,” I suggest, and her expression changes instantly.

Her smile fades, her bright eyes dull.

“Meet me halfway, Char. Please. I promised Darius I’d look out for you. He promised your uncle the same. Everyone’s trusting you to stay sober.” I struggle to express my fear as I see her ready to leave.

She crosses her arms and glares at me. “I’m twenty-seven, not seventeen. I can take care of myself. And we’re not together, why do you keep telling me what to do? I don’t have to listen to you or anyone else. I’m in charge of my own fucking life!” Her voice starts soft and slow, but quickly escalates to a yell.

I just want you to be safe. I just want to protect you. I just want you to remember the little boy who used to mean a lot to you.

“Charlotte, I’m sorry, but I can’t let you leave,” I say, knowing that letting her out alone in the city would be the most irresponsible thing I could do. She’s not stable. Not yet. Not enough to be alone in the city where she lost herself and part of her memory.

“Fine! I won’t go to the stupid banquet then!” she threatens, storming past me.

She tosses her bag onto the bar, knocking over some empty glasses.

The sound of shattering glass brings a harsh reality crashing down. She bends to pick up the broken shards.

“Stop!” I yell, rushing to grab her hands before she can touch them.

I step on a few shards, feeling them pierce my skin.

Ignoring the wetness under my heel, I check her hands to make sure she hasn’t cut herself.

***

Charlotte helps clean the blood from my feet and dresses the small wounds with the first aid kit in the suite.

“It’s my fault,” she murmurs softly. I see the tears in her eyes, the tremors shaking her body, the goosebumps on her arms, the pulsing vein in her neck.

It’s hard to read her. I used to think every emotion was genuine, but I’ve been wrong before. She was faking then, always plotting her escape.

Maybe agreeing to be alone together again was too soon. Maybe I should call her manager. Darius wants to protect her as much as I do. We have different reasons, but the result is the same. I make a mental note to text him when she’s distracted.

“It’s okay,” I reassure her, trying to keep my voice steady.

My phone chimes in the other room and I slowly stand up.

I don’t feel any pain, it must be the adrenaline.

I know she’s following me, so I walk slower to the room. She jumps on the bed and picks up my phone before I can reach it.

She glances at the screen then looks up at me.

My heart pounds in my chest as I wait. I really need to change my phone’s password. Of all the things she’s forgotten, my password isn’t one of them.

“Who’s Lincoln?” she asks, and I freeze.

I’m stuck, unable to swallow, move, speak, say anything.

I know she’s seen a picture by the look on her face. She moves the phone closer to her eyes as she stares. Every second that ticks by, my heart pounds harder. I lose track of time as I stand there, waiting to regain control of my body.

The longer she stares, the more hopeful I become. It’s hard to hope in a situation like ours. And yet I do it anyway.

“He’s cute,” she says after a while.

She turns off the screen and places the phone back on the nightstand.

A wave of disappointment and relief washes over me. She doesn’t remember.

Feeling returns to my body and I sit on the bed beside her. She’s sitting in the easy sukhasana position.

“Are you okay?” she asks in a voice even softer than before.

I nod.

“Maybe I should buy you some painkillers or something?” she suggests, and I shake my head.

“There’s no pain. I’m good,” I force a smile through the confusion clouding my mind.

“You still don’t trust me,” she whispers in the voice I hate the most. It’s the voice she uses to get whatever she wants, and like an idiot, I always give in.

It’s been months since I’ve seen her. In that time, I’ve grown stronger, tougher. I’ve learned to say no.

“We both know you’re not ready to go out on your own. Why are you fighting me on this? I know we’re not together. But you’re still my best friend and my instinct is to protect you.” This morning, I was blinded by lust and the fact that I missed her. I messed up by letting things go beyond talking. And now I can’t take it back.

“I understand how you feel, I’m frustrated too. I’m watched like a hawk every minute of the day. Even when I’m working. Darius gives lame excuses to the designers on why I’m the only model who can never go to the after parties. I feel like everyone’s talking behind my back, no one believes I’ve changed. It’s not fair that no one gives me the benefit of the doubt.” Her eyes well up with tears, breaking my heart.

“I thought you’d be different, I thought you understood me. I thought that you’ve chosen to trust me since you invited me to the banquet. I thought that you’d be the one person in the world that didn’t see me as a broken thing. I thought you’d treat me like a normal person. Or at least I hoped you would. After everything we’ve been through, Chris, I thought we were better than that.”

I hear the words but they sound familiar. A year ago, she said the same thing to me right before she overdosed in my apartment. I felt like an idiot then, I still do. My heart and my head are at war, and I can’t seem to find a middle ground.

“I…,” I start, but what? I don’t even know what the hell I’m feeling.

She places her hands on my cheeks, her palms icy against my skin.

“I love you,” she declares. “I love you, just trust me.”

I gently remove her hands from my face, forcing a smile. The thought of her out there alone makes me feel sick.

I’m battling the urge to dump out her bags and search them. I’m trying so hard not to go back to that place. The place I was when she let me down. The place where I felt most alone.

“Let’s go together,” I suggest. “I like watching you model for me. You haven’t done it outside of work in a while.” I keep my voice steady.

She looks at me, her expression blank. It’s as if she’s searching for the right words.

I keep my smile in place as I wait.

“Okay,” she finally agrees.

***

I call ahead and arrange for her favorite store to be closed for our private shopping trip.

She seems somewhat pleased.

The store owner and employees help select a dress for tonight. Several options are chosen and Charlotte disappears to try them on.

She emerges one by one in a different dress, each with a unique style. Any one of them could be the one. But she’s not satisfied. She wants to see more, but I don’t mind. Her mood is temporarily lifted by bossing people around. It’s better than the alternative.

The employees look worn out after the third hour. They manage to stay professional as they present her with new options.

Charlotte discards each dress onto the showroom floor after trying it on. The employees scramble to pick them up and hand her a new one.

I’m going to have to write a check for damages.

My phone rings. It’s Darius.

Charlotte’s busy with the clothes, so I step away to take the call.

“Hey. I was just about to call you,” I tell him, relieved that he beat me to it.

“Where’s Charlotte?” he asks, urgency in his voice.

“She’s fine. She’s shopping, and no, I didn’t let her go alone.” I’m annoyed that he thinks I can’t take care of her. I was doing it long before he came along.

“I’m picking her up in about an hour. I just landed and I’m heading to the hotel.”

As overwhelmed as I am, I doubt forcing her back into her strict routines would be helpful right now.

“Darius, I don’t think that’s a good idea. She already snapped at me today. I’m trying to be a good friend. Protect her but not make her feel trapped. It doesn’t help anything.”

I can hear the hustle and bustle of the airport in the background; flight announcements and the chatter of nearby passengers.

“Charlotte’s clever, more clever than you think. I didn’t want to say anything but she used about a month ago,” he reveals in a low voice.

“SHE WHAT!” I shout so loudly that a passing employee nearly jumps out of her skin.

“Why the hell would you keep that from me?” I’m so angry I can’t even worry about being overheard.

“Because she had a photo shoot that week and she didn’t want to miss it, she begged me not to tell you or her uncle. You know if he finds out she’s still using, he won’t unblock her inheritance.” If Darius were here right now, I’d punch him in the fucking face.

“She can’t spend her inheritance if she’s dead. What the hell do you expect me to do with this information? Do you really think I’ll let her go with you now?” My fingers tremble as I grip the phone tightly.

The bastard then says the one thing I can’t recover from.

“I’m doing a better job than you. At least she didn’t overdose with me like she did with you. She still can’t remember her own kid. How are you better than me at protecting her?”

I hurl my phone into the wall in front of me. I watch as it crashes and the screen shatters on impact.

I pace back and forth, trying to calm myself.

But how? How do I calm myself? She doesn’t remember him. And…it’s my fault.

In the haze of anger and self-blame, I see her step into view, my broken phone in her hand.

I carefully tuck it into my pocket.

Her big brown eyes look up at me with concern.

I take a deep breath in through my nose and out through my mouth, trying to quell the rage inside me.

I’ve kept it under control. I’ve done well over the years, even managing to mask it with humor when making new friends.

I’ve held it together, stayed out of trouble, focused on the present, and managed to find a sliver of happiness over the years.

How can it all come crashing down in an instant? Now I’m remembering that night like it was yesterday.

The blood. So much blood as they cut her open to get him out.

Lifeless, breathless. The code blue alarms blaring on the ward, announcing that her heart had stopped beating.

Born into the world, but no sound coming from him. Thirty-four seconds felt like thirty-four minutes. My life changed forever that night, and no matter how I’ve tried to heal myself, forgive myself, nothing worked. I didn’t protect her, I didn’t watch her properly, I shouldn’t have left her alone even for a second.

“You okay?” she asks me in that voice I hate the most.

The voice she used on me that night. I fucking hate that voice.

***

“I love you, baby,” Charlotte tells me, a twinkle in her eye.

“I love you more.” I kiss her forehead and settle into bed beside her.

With a hand on her belly, I can feel him moving, dancing happily every time I come close. He knows me, knows I’m his father, knows I love him and his mother.

“Ouch,” Charlotte winces as Lincoln kicks.

I kiss the spot where he last moved and pull her close to me.

“You’re proud of yourself, aren’t you? Every time you come close to me he goes crazy in there,” she rubs the part of her belly that aches.

“My son is eager to meet me. Can you blame him? I’m awesome,” I boast with a broad smile.

She rolls her eyes at me and I laugh out loud.

For a moment there’s silence. I think she’s fallen asleep, but then she speaks in the voice I love the most. Soft and sweet. Pleading and innocent. I can’t resist her when she talks like that. I’m always ready to give her the world. No matter the request, I’ve always delivered.

“How long do you think it’ll take for your parents to accept me?” she asks softly.

“It doesn’t matter,” is all I can say. “Don’t worry about them. You’re my life now and I will take care of you. We don’t need their support.”

She looks at me in a way I don’t understand. I’ve never seen that look before, so how could I interpret what it means?

“You’re right,” she says in the voice I hold dear.

She adds a smile to her face, sits up, and places a hand on her belly.

“I know I haven’t been the best person,” she admits.

I’m about to shush her, but she continues.

“I know I’ve been trouble in the past.” She pauses, gathering courage? Strength? I don’t know which.

“I know I put you through a lot. I’m sorry for everything. You used to be so close with your family, now you’re not—because of me.”

Again, I try to speak, but she cuts me off.

“I know they think I got high and cheated on you. I know they don’t think Lincoln’s yours, but I swear on my life he is.”

I can’t bear to see her cry. It breaks me in ways I’ll never recover from.

“Charlotte, I know. I know he’s mine and I don’t want you to keep beating yourself up about this. It’s not good for the baby. It’s not good for you either. I just want you to relax and try to think positive thoughts. Think of our future. You, me, and Lincoln. Don’t worry about anything or anyone else.”

She smiles at me. Beneath that smile is the same look. The look I don’t understand.

In the voice I love the most, she makes a request. “Can I have some ice cream? I think I’ll feel better after I eat something sweet. I finished the last of it last night. Will you get some for me?”

Why would I say no to that?

But I wish I had.

***

Charlotte looks up at me with a look I understand. She’s searching my eyes to see if I have doubts. If I’m willing to do this all over again.

“Finished? Did you pick a dress?” I question, my face void of any emotion.

I’m already struggling to trust her, and now I’m questioning my own ability to stay vigilant.

She gives a slow nod but doesn’t utter a word.

I beckon the store manager over and hand over my card to pay for six dresses. She remains silent as I settle the bill. Charlotte clutches the bag containing her chosen dress, while I instruct the manager to donate the remaining five to a debutante charity. They’re always a hit with the blue-blooded New Yorkers.

***

We make a pit stop at a café to grab some pastries. I let her go in, stand in line, and pay all by herself. I suspect she doesn’t get much freedom with her uncle and Darius always hovering, so I want to give her this small taste of independence.

When she comes back to the car, there’s a sparkle in her eyes. A wide grin splits her face and a giggle escapes her lips that I’ll likely remember all night.

“Happy?” I ask, and she nods, bouncing in her seat next to me.

She leans in to plant a kiss on my cheek and I pull her in closer.

“Back to the hotel, please,” I instruct my driver.

He starts the car, and we’re on our way.

My phone screen is shattered, but I can’t just abandon it. It holds too much important stuff.

Being careful not to slice my fingers on the broken glass, I hand it over to my driver. “Get me a new one by tonight. Same model. Leave both the old and new one in my suite.”

He nods in agreement.

Charlotte dozes off on my shoulder. By the time we pull up, I spot Darius and Charlotte’s bodyguard waiting on the sidewalk.

So, this is happening now.

I gently kiss her forehead to rouse her.

She rubs her eyes and looks up at me.

“We’re here,” I tell her.

She nods and climbs out of the car after me.

It’s not the punch to my face that stings. It’s the look on her face when she realizes what’s going on. The look of betrayal that I didn’t trust her to hold it together. That I didn’t trust myself either. Seeing Darius and her bodyguard brings those truths to the forefront.

The dress I bought is discarded on the ground and her punch connects with my right jaw with surprising force. I never knew someone so petite could pack such a punch.

Darius grabs her and, with the help of the bodyguard, she’s ushered into their car.

He saunters over to me with a smug expression. “I collected her stuff from the room. The staff here recognize me from paparazzi photos with her.”

I stay silent because I’m not sure what I want to say to him. My hands are clenched into tight fists. He infuriated me over the phone, but he was right. I deceived myself into thinking I could handle this. I’ve failed before. I don’t want to fail her again. She deserves better…and so do I.

“Listen, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the relapse last month.” He steps closer and apologizes in a hushed tone, so only I can hear.

“It wasn’t right of me to bring up what happened seven years ago. I struggle with her just as much as you do. There are times when she asks about the scar, and I fabricate some car accident story. The therapist doesn’t think we should tell her anything, he wants us to wait for her to remember what happened on her own. I catch her staring at it in the mirror which is why I never let her do swimsuit runway shows, or photo shoots. It’s fully clothed or nothing. The last thing I want is people asking questions and triggering her in any way.”

I’m already aware of everything he’s telling me because I’ve had to deal with her myself; I was there when she woke up in the hospital after giving birth and she asked me why she was there. I don’t recall the lies I told her, I don’t remember the lies I told myself either.

I was there when the doctors said her brain had blocked out everything related to Lincoln due to the trauma, so none of this is news to me. I just feel helpless. More helpless than before. I thought we could at least revert back to being best friends. I thought we could ignore the elephant in the room. I wanted to at least try to carry on like nothing happened. I wanted to try to be there for her like I used to be. But once again, harsh realities jolted me awake from that dream.

“Just keep her out of trouble,” is all I say to him.

“I’ll do my best,” he replies before departing.

I stand on the sidewalk, watching as they drive away