THE BILLIONAIRE'S HIDDEN AGENDA

NOT AS SIMPLE

Arnold's POV

The bakery is filled with people, the waiters moving between tables with trays balanced like they've done it a thousand times .

Its aesthetically pleasing , glass tables , the smell of freshly baked pastries .

I look for an empty table and find one near the window with good views of the waters on the other side .

A waiter approaches .

" Can i get you anything sir?"

"Can i see the menu?"

" Are you new here?" she asks , already asking someone to get one for me .

"Just visiting ," I say .

She lights up at that , like i've said something wonderful and lovely to her hearing .

" We do something special for new customers, if you're interested?"

"Sure,"I say and give her the smile I've practiced for exactly this kind of moment .

She hurries back to the counter , gathering the other waitresses, and before i understand what's going on .

They are standing right in front of me and around my table singing some kind of welcome song loud enough that almost everyone in the bakery turns to look .

They are also with a bottle of my favourite drink, Don Julio .

I am pretty sure i didn't tell anyone that information .

I laugh , motly out of surprise .

I didnt expect this , not here , not in a town this small .

Maybe thats exactly what small towns do , i think .

They act just like family cause why would the old woman i helped to cross the road know alot about Marisa and her family .

Make strangers feel like they matter before they've earned it .

Someone approaches me while the song is still going and very rehearsed thought in my head goes quiet at once .

I'd seen photographs and told myself photographs were enough to prepare for this .

They weren't .

She is smiling , easy and unguarded , the kind of smile that doesn't know yet what it's about to be spent on .

Up close she is more beautiful than the pictures managed to capture , something in the easy.

She looked elegant and how she carried herself , like she belonged where she stood.

She reaches out her hand .

" Welcome to Ashwood Falls".

"Thank you ," I say , and i mean to say more , but she's already asking my name .

"Arnold Sterling,"I tell her .

"Founder of Sterling Enterprises ."

I don't get to finish whatever i meant to say next .

One of the waitresses gasps loud enough to turn heads .

"I've seen you ,I've seen you on TV! Mr Arnold. The entrpreneur".

I smile and shake her hands too , keeping my expression practiced , the version of myself built for this kind of attention .

Inside of me something tightens .

This isn't how i planned to walk into this bakery and town , quiet , unnoticed , a stranger nobody thinks twice about .

Instead almost everyone in the bakery is on their feet, phones out , angling for a picture of the billionaire who wandered into their morning.

"What brings you here, sir?" Marisa asks .

"Visiting," I say again , simpler this time , hoping it lands as modest .

I don't want her to see me the way the rest of the room does , a name from the magazines and TV.

I want her to see something else. I'm just not sure yet what that is..

" What can i bring you?" The waitress asks .

"Cinnamon roll," i say , and take my seat , grateful for a reason to look at something other than the woman standing near my table .

Everything is going according to plan .

That's what i tell myself , at least , sitting with a plate in front of me and eating like a man , harmless and charming just visiting the town .

I don't let myself think too hard about how easily she smiled at me ,and how it didn't need to take much effort.

The television mounted above the counter is playing the usual morning noise , a govenrment official talking about the economy , nothing worth my attention .

I hear , half listening , until a name beneath a man's face on the screen cathes my eyes.

Victor Hail. I go still .

I hadn't expected him on national television .

I'd expected a man in hiding , not a man being interviewed , composed and confident , talking about his company he built from nothing .

My hand tightens slightly around my glass.

Every word out of his mouth is a lie I kmow the shape of better than he does .

Marisa walks towards the television and turns up the volume , and something in her face, pride, makes my stomach turn .

"That's my uncle," she says to no one in particular, to everyome in the bakery who already seems to know it.

"He is incredibe, isn't he?" I say nothing , i can't .

The rage moves through me fast and quiet, the way it always does, and for one unbearable second the whole room feels like its made of enemies , the waitressses who sang for me , the customers.

Marisa glowing with a pride i know is built on a lie .

I force my face still .

Five years of practice .

But Marisa turns back towards me before i can finish resetting it .

"Are you okay?" She asks .

I open my mouth , and the first lie i tell her in Ashwood Falls comes out easier than it should .

"I'm fine, " I say .

"Just tired from the drive."

She doesn't push but just nods and gives me a look, like she's deciding whether to believe me.

As she walks back to the counter

I watch her go and something settles in my chest that i dont like the feeling of .

Not guilt , worse.