The Billionaire And The Waitress (gxg)

04 - a nightmare

THE meeting was not going well.

    And although Julien Vitale was her father, although they were family, although it should have just been breakfast, Adrien couldn't call it anything but a meeting. Her father had decided that the moment she'd sat down in the curtained, velvety-black booth and he'd said, "We need to discuss the enterprise."

    Was it too much, asking for a good morning?

    Adrien straightened her cufflinks before remembering not to fidget. Not to show weakness. "What do you have in mind?"

    "Your . . ." He paused, but he was not hesitant. Instead, he coldly surveyed her: all-black suit, tied-up hair. She wondered, sometimes, whether he saw a reflection of himself in her. If that was why he couldn't stand the sight of her. "Your reputation."

     "My reputation." 

     "Your image isn't right." He cleared his throat. Folded a napkin. "Consider Grey, for example. Grey Hansen. He's married, with a baby on the way. At thirty years old, he is the epitome of a family man."

     Adrien waited.

     "You," said Julien Vitale, "are not."

     "You want me to be a family man." Adrien let out a laugh, derisive and blunt. "What good does that do for the company? I can run it better than Grey―you know that."

     "It upholds the foundation upon which the corporation was built. It creates a wholesome image of servitude and commitment to conventional life goals."

     "Are you―serious?"

     Wrong answer. 

     Her father's eyes met hers. Utter black. "I have five months to live, Adrien. I will be damned"―and his voice shook now, rage alight on his stony face―"if I let a faithless, womanizing heathen take control of my prize, my work, my company."

    "So I'm not religious, and I have a lot of sex with women, and I don't do what men tell me to do. So what?" 

     Julien's fist hit the table. The silverware rattled. Adrien was suddenly thankful their booth was shadowed by dark, shimmery velvet curtains. 

    "So I want my heir to be married, to go to church every Sunday, to appear respectful and dignified in the public image. And if that isn't you in five months, then I will give the Vitale Enterprises to Grey Hansen."

     Adrien stood up. All she could say, trembling with fury, was: "I'm going to the bathroom."

    

     THE cold water against her face made Adrien startle. She splashed herself, over and over again, until this nightmare felt real. She had her own billion-dollar company, and for most people, that would be enough. Adrien wasn't most people. She wanted to rule her father's fucking enterprise, and she wouldn't rest until she'd gotten it.

     But a family man? Her father wanted a family man?

     Adrien braced her ring-studded fingers on the countertop of the sink. Stared at herself in the mirror. 

     Most of the shareholders of the Vitale Enterprise were just like her. Sleeping with different women every weekend. Living alone in bachelor penthouses. Living lives of no commitment and an infinite supply of wealth. 

     Her father had never minded. In fact, he'd even encouraged them. Adrien had grown up hearing the kind of talk that belonged in a men's locker room. Details of their sex lives. Degradation of women. But now . . . now, he wanted a family man?

     Adrien splashed herself again with cold water. Retied her hair.

     Julien Vitale's cancer diagnosis gave him five months to live. She could compromise her ethical code of conduct for five months. She could give him what he wanted: a marriage, church every Sunday, the illusion of respect and dignity. 

     And then she could break it off, once the papers were signed and the company was hers.

     The only problem lied in who she would marry.

    At that thought, the bathroom door flung open. Adrien caught a flash of a woman in a white waitressing uniform, with light brown skin and hair in tight ringlets. Then the first stall―furthest away from Adrien―locked shut. A muffled curse followed.

     Adrien didn't think anything more of it. She had to consider this turn of events, starting with the idea of marriage.

    Her father had never minded her sexuality. It wasn't the women that bothered him, exactly. If anything, he was okay with it if only because he'd always wanted a son, which meant they would both share an attraction to the same sex. So the marriage could involve a wife, but who would agree to this charade?

     Money. Money would be an incentive. And―she'd need a long-ass NDA.

     "Hello?"

     The shaky, feminine voice drew Adrien out of her thoughts. She hesitated. Nobody else was in this bathroom but her. "Yes?"

     "Do you, um, have a tampon? If you don't, there's some in the dispenser nearby."

     Adrien glanced towards the dispenser and pulled out her wallet. After slipping a quarter into the box, a pink-wrapped tampon fell out. 

     She made her way to the first stall and knocked on the door. A warning before she slid the tampon underneath. 

     Was she supposed to say something now? 

     "It's from the dispenser," she decided to add. "I have an IUD, so I don't usually carry any."

     "Thank you," said the woman. "Thank you so much, I―um, I'm really sorry about this. I'd appreciate your discretion." 

     Adrien tried not to laugh. She understood the hidden message behind the plea: Please don't get me fired. 

     Still, the woman's voice was strangely alluring. Soft and delicate and breathless.

     Adrien couldn't help smiling. Just a little. "Of course. I understand, you know." And she did: she'd hated having her period. "What's your name?"

     The answer came after several seconds of unbearable silence. Adrien almost regretted asking, but―

     "Muse. Muse Gardner. And yours?"

     "Adrien Vitale."

      There was no sharp intake of breath, no sign that Muse recognized Adrien's name from either her father's corporation or her own. Adrien liked that, the anonymity. 

      "Um, nice to meet you."

      Adrien smiled again, although she knew the woman couldn't see. Or maybe―because of it. "Nice to meet you, too."

     She felt, somehow, better after the brief conversation. When she returned to her booth, she met her father's gaze head-on.

     "I can do it."

     It was clear he hadn't expected this of her. But he narrowed his eyes and said, "You'll find someone to marry? You'll become religious? You will maintain a respectable public image?"

     "I'll be a born-again Christian, if that's what it takes."

     Julien's jaw locked. Grudging respect. "You know what your timeline is, Adrien. Convince me before then, and the company will be yours."

     Adrien didn't let the excitement show.

    "I promise, Dad. I'll be married by the end of the month."

***

FAKE WEDDING. That's all I have to say.

From the moon and back,
Sarai