A Game With The Billionaire

Chapter 29:

Charlotte:

It has been a few days and Tristan hasn’t sent a text, nor have I seen him since I haven’t been to Titan Games, Jeremy’s company for the past few days.

Honestly I wasn’t surprised that he just gave up that easily, but a tiny part of me is still disappointed. Here I thought a guy was finally getting serious about me, what a joke.

So today, after much pleading from Chloe and Clara, my sisters, I finally decided to go on a date with one of our family’s long-time lawyer’s sons, Gabriel Hawthorne. We grew up seeing each other in charity galas and private Christmas dinners but aside from small talk, that’s it. Now we’re seated across from each other in Imperial Restaurant.

“How’s work?” I ask, trying to defuse the silence. I have no idea what he does since he has family money but still I should ask right? Gabriel is good on the eyes, with wicked brown eyes, clean jaw and chocolate brown hair, he’s probably every woman’s dream but something just doesn’t click here.

“Good.” He picks at the steak with his fork and knife. Ooh, he seems and sounds formal. This is the type of man I am supposed to fall in love with. I picture us together on Christmas Eve wearing matching outfits and drinking eggnog, but somehow....I just can’t see it working.

We eat in silence, me talking and piping away with him just chipping in here and there. The waitress comes back and asks if we have settled for dessert.

“Can we have ice-cream?” I ask cheerfully and Gabriel shoots me a quizzed look.

“Why are we having ice-cream? We need to watch our diet.” I don’t like the way he looks at me, it makes me boil all over. I am an influencer and sometimes I do modelling gigs, and yes, I watch my weight. I have been starved of desserts and junk food for the past three weeks, God forbid a woman can’t just have a bowl of her favourite ice-cream just once.

“Oh, I am sorry, Gabriel but I want to order dessert.” I quickly order my favourite ice-cream and the waitress smiles tensely at Gabriel; I guess he is giving out major asshole vibes right now.

“So you’re an influencer right? Must be nice posting pictures and having people fawning over you. Do you have any skills at all, besides pretending to be important, Char?”

Calm down, Charlotte, don’t lose your cool for a guy that isn’t worth it. But I won’t lie that my face isn’t getting redder and redder by the second. “First of all, only close friends call Char, and secondly, being an influencer is way harder than people make it out to be.”

“Right.” He snorts into his drink and it takes all physical restraint not to launch and slap his pretty face. “Do you need to take pictures of these too? Perhaps take pictures and think of a perfect cute caption? Don’t worry; I’ll pose if you ask me too.”

My face is red; I can’t tell if it is from humiliation or anger. How dare this guy just sit here and question my career in front of my face? I have always wanted to be an influencer, not because I like attention, but because I wanted to make someone feel seen, to tell people that they are allowed to dream big and chase dreams. To remind people that they aren’t alone.

“I don’t get it.” Gabriel sits up straight, pinning me with some weird look. “You look good, post pictures, and then get paid?”

My jaw tightens. I have survived far worse criticism than this. I am used to people questioning my life choices, people thinking that I am just an attention seeking woman, they think I depend on daddy’s money but I built everything I have from scratch.

I keep my voice calm. “I help people build confidence. I help them feel seen, I try to make their day better,”

“With what?” He raises an arrogant brow. “By taking pictures of yourself?”

My fingers curl around. I breathe, remembering the promise I made to myself that I won’t let anyone pull me into small arguments. The truth is there, the messages from girls saying I helped them leave toxic friendships, the comments from women who said my posts made them smile after a hard day, the people who said my confidence helped boost their confidence.

That is why I do what I do and it’s enough for me. This man knows nothing about that and so I can’t let him get under my skin. In fact, I am done here.

“I can see that this date isn’t working out.” I say watching the way his solemn expression shifts from calm to pissed in the matter of seconds. “So let’s just call it a day.” And it’s a sure fact that I am never messaging him again.

“What are you talking about? Girls like you are dying to date me.”

“Woman.” I correct myself, rising from the seat. He stands up from the seat, frowning heavily.

“You sure do give out pick-me-up vibes, isn’t that what this was about? I am supposed to buy you expensive food, take you out to get you expensive as hell jewellery and then we end the day in my place for a good lay.”

I go completely still, blood rushing to my face. People take one look at me and assume I am this spoiled rich brat and just because I swim in billions, they get me stuff worth billions and that translates to a good lay. They don’t want to know me, they don’t ask for my opinion on it. They think because they have anything they can have access to me.

Which was why I was angry at Tristan, people like him are recognizable even in Gabriel.

Gabriel sneers, grabbing my wrists attracting people’s attention. I feel eyes on me and I pride myself to act composed. After all, this is a public place and people look up to me online.

“Let. Go.” My voice is deadly cold.

“What are you going to do about it?” He asks, scowling. “Look, we talk about you all the time in the club. They say you don’t do relationships and dates, every man in the club wants you. They put bets on you? I heard Tristan Hart even has a claim on you.”

Cold dread washes over me. Tristan? This is simply because I rejected him, why do rich dudes always do this? Why do they always think that they can have anything they lay their eyes on?

I am calm and composed but literally every part of me is screaming, to claw away from here.

“She said let go.” A deep voice resounds from behind us and a few people in the restaurant look at us. Gabriel smirks when Tristan comes into view, taller and intimidating.

Everything in me pauses. Tristan is here, he’s here.

“Oh, Tristan. Glad you’re here, just having a simple dinner with her.” he winks and Tristan shoves him away so hard, he lands on the chair.

He turns towards me, looking at me tenderly. “Are you okay?”

My heart slows in relief that someone finally cares. But everything shatters when I remember what Gabriel said, he put a claim on me.

“Don’t touch me.” I say as Tristan wants to cup my cheek.

“What the hell, man?” Gabriel asks, red-faced with embarrassment as he faces Tristan who turns to look at him with a frown. “I was just teaching her a lesson, she’s a gold digger.”

The punch lands on Gabriel’s face, causing him to stumble to the floor. Tristan towers over him, and his look right now is extremely frightening. “What did you just call her?’

Gabriel sputters out blood, looking scared. I see someone pointing a phone at us. “He’s not worth it.” I say silently, causing Tristan to focus his attention back on me. He steps closer, his crystal-blue eyes soft. “Let me take you home.”

Take me home? Why? So he can tell his ‘club people’ how he managed to put a claim over me?

The anger that rushes out of me comes out so fast. I slap him across the face. Hard. The sound echoes throughout the restaurant and I am left gasping in anger. His cheeks are red, but there’s no look of anger on his face. It pisses me off the most.

I can’t stay here anymore. I leave the restaurant, ignoring the pitiful eyes of people. I make it out to the restaurant, before I force myself to inhale a large gulp of air.

“Charlotte.” He says quietly behind me.

I turn towards him in anger. “What the hell is wrong with people like you? You think you have money because you are Tristan f*****g Hart, you can just...claim me? Like I am some limited-edited watch everyone wants to wear once and put back in the box.”

Those words that have been uttered by my friends in the past start to come back to me.

‘You’re only invited because of your last name, Charlotte.’

‘Everyone knows you are the jackpot, not the girl.’

‘Let’s be real; if you were just some normal trust fund kid, no one would look twice.’

When the boy that seventeen year old me had a crush looked me in the eye and said. ‘Your money is nice, Char. But it’s not enough to make me stay and date you.’

He stops and stares at me in shock.

“You like what I represent!” I scream, a few passersby look us in the eye but everything blurs. “I am sick of dinners at fancy restaurants, of expensive gifts. You all pretend you like me, but you don’t. You like what I represent, not what I am.” A tear streaks down my face.

“Charlotte, I am sorry.” There’s a look of pure concern on his face and I hate it.

I laugh bitterly. “Yeah, you and every other guy in the world.”

“I am not your bet, Tristan. I am not a claim; I am not your princess or your prize or your end-of-the-night reward.” My voice cracks. “I am just me and no one wants that, they just want the billions attached to it.”

Tristan looks like he wants to say more but he shuts his mouth.

“Don’t follow me.” My voice comes out shakily as I start to walk on the sidewalk, the tears come down heavy. All my life, I have tried to suppress those insecurities that I will never be enough, that the only thing worth sticking around for was my money. With trembling hands, I pull my phone out of my purse and dial Chloe’s number.

“Darling.” Chloe says tenderly and it makes me sniffle. The truth is there, my sisters will always love me, I have them. They are more than enough in my life. “What’s wrong? Are you crying?”

“Are you home? I just want to come visit.”

“Yes, I am home. I’ll even get your favourite ice-cream ordered. Are you okay?” I can sense the concern in her voice.

“Yeah, yes. I love you, okay?” I say.

“I love you too, Char.” I end the call, still feeling as empty as before.