Falling for the Billionaire Deal

Chapter 2: DANIEL

I don't know what's worse, being a billionaire or being a famous billionaire. To me, I'll take the former, because with that, nobody can know your business. Every woman I slept with was on the news, always claiming I was dating them when it was actually just a one-night stand. Hopefully Joan understands that part, in case the media doesn't. Joan is a musician, and I met her at the birthday party hosted by my mother.

Everyone can agree that Joan is attractive. She is the kind of woman you would find yourself staring at until your lips found hers. Her large breast peeking out from her revealing dress, her slim waist, and her thick thighs made her extremely attractive. I could not take my eyes off of her. Although I was also a handsome man, I took pride in the fact that women found other attractive things about me besides just my wealth.

When I finished telling everyone how much I appreciated their gifts, well wishes, and efforts to attend the so-called party and went to get myself a drink, I caught Joan's eye. She was speaking to a group of men; of course, she was famous, and she was dressed in a very revealing outfit. It was easy to imagine her naked if one wanted to. Her thick thighs were showing through her dress, and they looked like they could fit perfectly at my back. Then she looked at me, not saying anything but biting her lips. Some seconds later, she waved goodbye to the men, and there she was, at my front, her hands all over her lips, indicating that she wanted what I wanted.

"Daniel Rodgers, correct?" She didn't stretch her hand because she did not need to when she could easily place it on my chest, and before I could stop myself, my hands were gripping her ass and squeezing life out of it. That was the moment I realized we needed a room.

Waking up with a naked woman beside my bed—that's all I could remember—not like I was too drunk to remember the stuffs from last night; I just didn't care enough. Sleeping with Joan was like sleeping with any other woman; she was nothing special, just someone I could use to satisfy myself. I last remember falling in love with a woman about 5 years ago, with my first sweetheart, Becca, who cheated on me. After that, I could not bring myself to fall for another woman. They all felt like toys to me because they were easy to get through.

I got out of bed, put on my boxers, and went to get myself a chilled bottle of wine right beside the bed. Joan appeared to be awake, as I could hear her shifting the sheets. I did not want to see her or talk to her, and I wanted her to put on her clothes and leave because I was over her. She had clothes on, and as I thought she was going to walk away, she touched my back.

She left after saying, "It was a nice time with you, Daniel; I hope we can do this again," and for that, I was grateful.

My phone started buzzing real hard; it was like it wanted to explode. What could it be? Girls making threats that if I did not start dating them, they would blackmail me—with what, exactly? Was it my manager or my mother who would say things I did not care about? After sipping my Romanée-Conti wine, I finally picked up the phone. It was messages from my mother and manager, and the threats were as I had expected, but there were more. I opened the news and saw photos from last night, when I was grabbing Joan's ass like I was about to rip it off, and I had completely forgotten I had pressed my lips against hers. Yes, that exact scene was posted on the Internet with the caption.

"Joan Miley was seen kissing Daniel Rodgers at his 26th birthday party; could they be dating?"

"Oh f**k, how was I so careless?" I cursed myself for forgetting that I was always responsible for all of these headlines if I was not alert. I answered the incoming call from my manager, not even letting her talk.

"You can see the news headline; please take care of it."

"Not so easy, Mr. Daniel, if you do not start being cautious when you are touching and kissing."

"Claire, just take care of it; you have always been doing that," I said, ending the call before she could say anything else. Maybe I should disappear and go to my house on the east island for a few days to escape the mess I made for myself. Hopefully Joan would tell the media the truth and not lie, that it was just a one-night stand, since I have not heard from her. I assume she was attempting to put an end to the rumors.

I was ready to leave the house after taking my bath. Knowing that the company would be packed with reporters and people whose job it was to mind my business made me not want to go there. So I had to go somewhere else. My mother was coming down from hers before I could make it to mine. Feeling like the queen she always was, she got out of the car after her bodyguard opened the door. I had to call off any plans I had to go out because I knew she was coming to see me.

"Heard from the news you were hooking up with Joan Miley." She was talking as she walked to the backyard, and I had to follow her like a fly desperately trying to defend itself.

"But I see that as a good opportunity," she remarked, sitting down on the backyard porch while I stood close to her, still trying to process everything she had just said. When she said that was a good opportunity, what did she mean? If she was asking me to confirm the rumors in order to help the company gain positive publicity, she must be kidding. Who would have thought my mother would go to such lengths? I knew she was insane. I stood there with my hands in my pockets, trying to make sure she could see the disapproval on my face, but I did not say anything.

She looked at me, tilting her head, "Joan's a musician, well known, and most importantly, well paid too."

"It would be nice if she was the girlfriend of my son; at least that would keep you in one place." I knew what my mom meant. She was implying that I was seeing too many people, but she failed to realize that the relationship that occurred between Joan and I was no different—it was platonic and did not have to lead to a committed relationship.

"Mom, I hope you understand that is not possible." With both hands gripping my pocket tightly, I cleared my throat.

She then got up and said, "Have fun clearing the rumors because I would not meddle; this time I want the media to win."

"Daniel, try living life once; remember, it is all for the company." I stood looking blankly at the chair as her voice resounded from inside the house; my thoughts were racing through too many places at once.

I received a text from Claire telling me she was coming over to my house because we needed to discuss some things about the company, but I didn't really see what we could possibly talk about. We had taken care of everything I needed to when I was at the company a few days ago. Unless she did really want to scold me more for the rumors. Claire occasionally gave me the impression that she wanted to do something with me; she would touch me at random, wear clothing that showed off her breasts, and bend over to look at my face while we were speaking, but I usually brush those feelings aside. She was my manager, and the last thing I wanted to see on the news was me hooking up with her.

"Apparently the only thing Daniel would not hook up with is a chair, as long as it did not have a vagina." Trying to push the thoughts from my mind, I imagined what the comments under the headline might be.

Claire arrived wearing exactly what I had predicted—a very short skirt and a crop top that completely exposed her breasts and stomach. I had to look away in time so I wouldn't find myself fantasizing about how my hands would fit in her big breast. She sat down on the sofa opposite the one I sat on in my living room on the second floor, holding a paper and pen, while pretending she was trying to record something.

"I've been trying to take care of the reports, but it seems almost impossible if Joan or you don't tell the media anything."

"Why don't you tell Joan to get rid of the rumors? She can handle it perfectly by saying that nothing is happening.

"It's not that easy."

"Why?"

"Because I doubt Joan will want to clear up rumors like that; it appears you are forgetting who you are, Daniel." I stood by that statement because I understood what she meant and knew it was true. I began pacing around the living room, looking for ideas while stealing glances at my manager; her thighs were clearly visible, and it was distracting me. I mean, we are trying to clear off a rumor here. She stood up and approached me, placing her hands behind my back. I felt her hands on my biceps and wanted to pin her to the floor, but I quickly removed her hands.

"Claire, what was that?" I turned to face her and asked. Her head was lowered and she appeared embarrassed.

"I was trying to help... My..."

"You understand that you are my manager and not my girlfriend—there is a very fine line that can be drawn between the two."

"I know," she said almost immediately.

"I'm just so sick and tired of hiding my feelings for you, Daniel. I've been your manager for three years, trying to show you I'm the woman you can sleep with instead of all these lame..."

"Claire, stop it; for heaven's sake, you are my manager." There was nothing else for me to do, so I rubbed my hair in an attempt to come up with an idea. For once, I realized that I needed to make a choice that would prevent me from getting a woman into my bed.

"I am sorry, Claire, but you are fired."