A Game With The Billionaire

Chapter 33:

Charlotte:

The video of Tristan punching Gabriel, me slapping Tristan and my emotional outburst outside the restaurant only went viral for a day before well, it got taken off the internet. But what’s already up there will stay there, won’t it?

For the past few days, I have felt so bad, wanting to reach out and apologize, not to Gabriel, hell no. That dude got what was coming for him, when my father heard what happened, he cut off the Hawthorne family from doing business with us. Ever.

I want to reach out to apologize to Tristan, it was wrong of me to slap him across the face. I guess my emotions got a better part of me, maybe what he did was wrong but also, he was trying to help me from that cantankerous being, Gabriel.

So now I want to see him and I am pretty sure I’ll catch him at Titan Games which is why I wear one of my most nice gowns as I step into the company.

‘Admit it,’ a voice says in the back of my head. ‘You just want to see him.’

Maybe I do and maybe I don’t. Hell, even I don’t even know. My emotions have been all over the place.

“Sorry, Miss. Hilton but Mr. Hart hasn’t been to work for the past few days.” The director of the department looks at me with a pitiful expression that makes me sick to my stomach.

I smile, which ends up as a grimace. “Oh, is that so? Ah, well okay.”

The employees in their respective cubicles are all looking at me which makes it awkward as hell. From here, I can hear their comments. “Damn, I didn’t even know the dude was a Hart....Tristan Hart. If I had known, I would have treated him a lot better.”

“Now I wonder why the CEO let him work in this department when they’re cousins.”

“Didn’t you see the video of her slapping him hard across the face? Apparently, I think he likes her or something but she just ain’t having it.”

My cheeks are flaming hot at their accusatory comments. Thanking the director profusely, I decide to take the elevator to the last floor which is Jeremy’s office.

“Hey,” I let go of my sadness as I step into his office. That’s how I am, always conflicting with my two emotions. Jeremy looks up from his computer and smirks while I flop myself on the seat, covering my burning cheeks. “I f****d up like really bad.”

“Everyone has seen the video, Charlotte. But seriously? My cousin? I don't even trust him.” Jeremy says, finally looking at me. “You look terrible by the way, did you come here for him?”

“Yes, but he stopped coming to work.” I say. “But why is he working here?”

“I don’t know, perhaps to gain experience or something.” Jeremy ponders. “He moved out of the Hart family and into his new condo, you can catch him there tonight. His friends are throwing a party for him.”

“How’d you know that?” I ask.

“He invited me.” Jeremy simply says. “Maybe because I am his cousin, it’s exclusive, so I can give you my invite if you really want to go. But be careful with Tristan, he’s a charmer. Hell, all the Hart family are charmers.”

I really do want to go, but I slapped him across the face. Will he be able to look me in the eye and accept my apology? I seriously doubt so. Biting my lips, I say. “I don’t know, but send me the invite just in case.”

--

Seven hours later, my car is parked in front of Tristan’s condo. My heart is thudding heavily as I grab the wrapped bottle of wine in the passenger’s seat. My mother always said there’s no better way than to ask for forgiveness without a gift.

I step into the marble-floored condo and the doorman escorts me to the elevator when I mention Tristan’s name.

The elevator finally opens into the widely spaced hallway. When I reach in front of the door, I knock twice and the door opens revealing a man who isn’t wearing a shirt, he leans against the doorway, hugging a bottle of alcohol.

“You look familiar,” he says against the thrumming of music that’s coming from the room. “Wait, aren’t you Charlotte Hilton? Wow, you look prettier in person.”

I shift uncomfortably, pulling out my phone and showing the invite that Jeremy sent to me earlier. “I have an invite.”

“No way, you want to see the golden boy that soon?” he laughs hoarsely.

“Just let her in already, Maxwell!” someone yells from inside the room and the guy—Maxwell grins before shifting aside, and letting me in.

Inside is a full blown party, since the condo is spacious enough, people are everywhere. Men laying on the chair with women sitting on the edge, people kissing, laughing, drinking. It all feels too much, the floor-to-ceiling windows overlook all of New York, capturing the glowing streets and skyscrapers.

For a second, I imagine Tristan sitting on one of those chairs, women draped around him, laughing and touching him and somehow, it makes me really uncomfortable and pissed. What is wrong with me?

I grip the bottle of wine tighter around my body and before I can move, someone takes it from my hand. I stare at the man who’s tall and towering over me. “I am Marcus, Tristan’s best-friend. You must be the infamous Charlotte, you’re like everywhere. Yeah, the dude’s been sobering up a lot, mentions your name a lot.”

I perk at this level of information and I don’t know what to do with it, Tristan has been mentioning my name?

Marcus shoves me to the side of the stairs. “Go on, he’s up.”

Ignoring the thudding of my heart, I creep upstairs and the music isn’t as loud on this floor, I push the first door I find open and step into a bedroom, which I am pretty sure is his bedroom.

It’s tidy, with bookshelves filled with books, the king-sized bed, a desk with a computer. Light streams across the hardwood floor through the floor-to-ceilings glass windows. I should leave, I am invading privacy but there’s an iPad pro lying face down on the bed, an Apple Pencil beside it and curiosity nudges me forward.

I pick it up, flipping it over. The screen lights up and my breath catches.

Drawings.

It’s drawings of me. I stare frozen, even line, every detail, it’s me. My caramel-blonde hair, my gray-blue eyes and even the three freckles just below my right eye. It’s that little mark that sets me apart from my sisters and he captured it. I swipe carefully, my heart racing. There is a full drawing of me, my heart pauses because I remember, it was a gala night and I was wearing a blue dress, my head tilted as I was laughing.

It’s one of the pictures that was taken when I was caught unaware. More drawings of me that I post online, my caramel blonde hair tied into a bun in that sunset photo.

“What’re you doing?”

The voice startles me. My heart skips as I fumble, dropping the iPad back onto the bed with a soft thud. My cheeks heat as I whirl to catch Tristan watching me amusedly, leaning lazily in the doorway. He’s wearing a dark sweatshirt and gray sweatpants and damn....

Oh my God....he’s wearing that and he looks like....My thoughts fumble over each other, because he’s standing there like this, and somehow every nerve inside of me is awake. My stomach flips, my chest tightens and I can’t decide if I should look away or just stare.

‘Be careful with Tristan, he’s a charmer. Hell, all the Hart family are charmers.’ Jeremy’s warning come back to me. Tristan walks towards me, jet-black hair tousled like he just rolled out of bed.

“Here for the party?” His voice is low and husky, he’s standing so close, I can feel the heat radiating out of him. I swallow, it’s now or never.

“I came to apologize for the other day, when I....erm....” I bite my lower lip, staring at his raised brow.

“I was an asshole. I made you cry. I hate myself for that.” The sincerity in his voice somehow makes me pause. “And I hate Gabriel; I would have broken his bones if he touched you.”

I stare, awe-stricken. “Did you paint this?” I revert to the iPad lying on the bed.

“Yes,” there’s a bit of hesitancy in his voice, like he’s unsure of himself which makes me surprised. His drawings are phenomenal and out of the world.

“They’re beautiful, Tristan.” I say softly.

His eyes flicker to mine, hope brimming there. “You sure?”

As I stare at him, I realize that I know nothing about this man. Sure everyone might see him as a confident, bold man but now, with the music blurring downstairs. All I see is the man that’s doubtful about his creations, that’s unsure about what he really is doing.

Without thinking, I step forward and put my hands on his neck, his hand encircling around my waist, pulling me closer. It’s as though we are lost in each other’s embrace.

“You don’t know how long I have wanted to do this,” our foreheads are touching and our lips are inches away from touching. My body is feeling charged and I am wondering what it’s like to actually kiss Tristan.

“Me, too.” My voice is a whisper; we stare at each other, our breathing ragged.

He chuckles and uses his thumb to graze along my chin, that simple touch sends electricity zapping through my body.

“Yoo! Tristan, come kiss me!” comes a whiny voice, we break apart and I stare at the woman in the doorway, who looks very much drunk. My cheeks redden with embarrassment as the woman seizes me up with her eyes. “Do you wanna kiss her, Tristan?” the woman huffs before leaving

I want to crawl into a hole and die of embarrassment. I feel pathetic, clinging to this man who has countless women downstairs, willing to throw themselves at him. I bet I was just acting like one of them.

Stupid, so, so stupid.

“Charlotte.” Tristan stares at me with glassy eyes but I am already going to the door. “Please don’t go.” He begs, but what’s there for me to stay?

“I am glad we got our differences settled. Goodbye, Tristan.” Before I can regret anything, I leave the room shakily. Tristan is and will always be a charmer and there’s no changing that.