The Billionaire's Obsession

               Ciara Mendes        

                   Momentarily I look at the amount of work that I have pending, I am unable to concentrate on the article I started two days ago. It is due at the end of the week, and my boss will certainly have my head if I mess this up. Beverly Florence is a well-known businesswoman in LA, not only known as the beautiful founder of Flare Magazine but also for her fake smiles and high-pitched voice. 

The only reason I landed myself this job was because of my ex, Fisher Roberts, the same Fisher Roberts who had me feeling a lack of self-confidence lately; so much so that I was unable to finish my article on Tanaya Henry and her new jewelry design, the new hit topic here in LA.

Sixteen hours ago, I found out that the man I would be marrying in three months was, in fact, in love with my sister Bridget Bicondova. Turns out that when my sister decided to rebel in high school and disappeared for a year, she became Fisher's love interest. Of course, I did not meet him until two years ago when he moved to LA. The two kept this a secret until my sister decided that she could not sit and watch her little sister marry the man she loves.

Bridget had what you would call a perfect life. She never worked a day in her life, and her sugar daddy soon-to-be-ex husband is a film director and screenplay writer. Not only that, but he is quite handsome. My beautiful niece Zendra Bicondova happens to be the smartest four-year-old, and to top that all off, they reside in Hidden Hills, California. 

The thirty-one-year-old was willing to throw all of that away for her high school sweetheart. She probably didn't think how this would go in court if Alaric decided that he wanted full custody of his daughter. Considering the fact that Bridget was the one at fault and she lived off the wealth of her husband, Alaric would get full custody and she might never see Zendra again.

"Ciara Mendes?" Melissa Upton called. The four-eyed editor of Flare Magazine is standing at the door of my small office with both her hands at her side. She tries to be as intimidating as our manager but fails miserably due to the fact that Melissa does not have a bad bone in her body.

I run my fingers through my brunette hair and let out a small groan as I realize what she is here to talk about.

"I hope the article on Miss Henry is almost finished, you have until tomorrow to get it on my desk." She says walking towards me.

I gasp at her, "What do you mean, until tomorrow? I have three days, it's supposed to be—"

"You're flying out to New York on Friday." She cuts me off. "Our boss wants you to cover the story of Richard Haynes."

"You mean that snobbish teenage kid who is replacing Jackson in that movie series—"

"Tactics?" She nods. 

"But, why me?"

She sighs, taking a seat at my desk opposite me. She crosses one leg over the other before saying, "No one wants to interview a thirteen-year-old brat, and everyone figures you are the best when dealing with children." 

She points her index finger in the air as if she remembered some other detail. "His family will also be present, so I don't think there is much for you to worry about."

Yeah, like his family is in control. This kid, Richard Haynes, is a spoiled rich kid, the kind that doesn't stop screaming until they get what they want. The first time I saw him was on a reality TV show for delinquent children. I watched a few episodes, and that was enough to know that I would never want to get involved with any child who threw an electric kettle at his own mother because she did not want to give him the themed party he wanted for his tenth birthday.  

"I would suggest you start typing, Ciara. You will need a lot of rest to deal with Richard." She pats my shoulder before leaving.

Great. Now, not only do I have to worry about canceling preparations that were already made for the wedding and mending my broken heart, but I also have to worry about some kid ripping my head off because I asked the wrong question.

Giovanni Haynes                It was working perfectly, although I never doubted it for a second. My charm and wealth always worked on these ladies. Perhaps they were too naive or just did not care that this would only be a one-time thing. Of course they didn't care! Every woman that I crossed paths with would be satisfied with just a second of my time.

Brunettes are normally my type, but lately, I've been experimenting with the blonds. This one sitting in front of me was the third one this week. She was a cute girl, probably just left college. I never thought it was important to ask. As long as she wasn't underage, everything would be fine. Her large twins peeping out of her short red dress and her hourglass figure were enough to let me know she was at least twenty-four. 

When she giggled at her own joke, I realized that I was busy thinking of the positions she would look good in, not listening to what she was saying about clowns or gowns. All of this did not matter to me. The only time a woman should be heard is when she is screaming out my name.

"Should we go to my hotel room?" I decided to ask, having had enough of her verbal interaction.

Her red lips parted in a smile as she brushed her curly blond hair aside. "I thought you would never ask."

She gets up from her seat, and I do the same. Just as I am about to place my hand on her lower back, my phone went off. 'Mother' flashes across the screen. I pocket the phone, choosing to ignore her. The only time she calls is when she wants to pester me about my choices in life, interrogate me as to when I'm going to settle down, or ask for a favor of me.

"Shall we?" The woman, whom I believe is Victoria, asks. Her small blue eyes stare up at me.

"We shall."

I lead her to my hotel suite. Usually, I don't bring these women to my house. I made that mistake once with Mitchell Garcia, a name I will never forget, and I learned from it. The annoying sound of my phone going off inside of my pocket for the third time felt like a needle in my nerves.

Room 306. I swipe the card in the door and usher the woman in.

"Why don't you wait inside for me, sweetheart? I have to take this." I kiss her neck before whispering in her ear, "Make yourself very comfortable for me."

She giggles before closing the door behind her.

"Mother?" I say into the phone, taking a few steps away from my room.

"Giovanni, I have been trying to reach you for so long."

"Why would that be, Mother?"

"Your brother has an interview with Flare Magazine in a few days."

I knew what she was getting at, but that still didn't stop me from asking, "And what exactly does that have to do with me?"

"I need you to fly to New York to be here with him."

"Mother, you know I'm a busy man." I place my unoccupied hand in my pocket as I wait for her answer. Of course, I have people to take care of my business while I'm out of LA. This is just an excuse for me not to go.

"Don't lie to me, Giovanni, you have people who wait on you on hand and foot. If you wanted to leave LA for a year, you could do so without any problems. Besides, we all have to be there."

I know Martha Haynes. If I do not agree now, she will not stop with her pestering until she has what she wants. This is something all Haynes had in common. We will walk miles just to get what we want.

"Fine."

  Ciara Mendes        

       Unfortunately for me, today is the day I leave for New York. In fact, I have to brave the flight in one hour. LA traffic is a bitch, and I have to leave soon if I want to make it in time to the airport. Of course, if it was up to me, I wouldn't have to at all, but a woman has to pay her bills, and I prefer to put up with a rich brat for just a couple of hours instead of doing something that will land me in prison and give my mother another reason to be disappointed in me.     

I place the flash drive in front of Melissa as she types away on her desktop computer. She looks like she could use a spa day. Her red hair is a mess, and her white-framed glasses are a bit crooked. I probably look half as bad since I've been up until three this morning trying to focus on writing this article on Tanaya Henry. The lady did her part, and I was supposed to write flawlessly, but I had failed to finish as quickly as I normally would because of my broken heart.

I know never to let my personal problems interfere with work, but it is hard not to think about my broken engagement when my older and only sister is the cause of said engagement. On top of that, I have people calling my phone non-stop, apologizing for what they had no part in. 

After I slapped Fisher across the face and glared my sister nearly to death, I refused to speak to them since. They did call me multiple times, but I ignored them. They deserved nothing from me.

"Thanks, Ciara, and good luck." Melissa says as she continues to type away like her life depends on it. 

"God knows I'll need it." I say, about to leave her office. "See you when I do, Melissa."

"Wait!" She calls out. I look back at her. She fixes her glasses as she looks at me, "Mrs. Florence wants to see you before you depart."

I nod at her before leaving. I figured she would want to see me. She calls me to her office every time I'm about to go somewhere for an interview. 

The glass door gives me a view of the black-haired woman who sits at her desk looking at something on her phone. She is dressed very elegantly, as usual, in a beige skirt suit. Her blue eyes look up from her phone at the sound of my tapping on the glass.

"Come on in, Miss Mendes." I enter the room and greet her before taking the seat at her desk that she had gestured for me to sit in.

"You will be staying at the Roosevelt Hotel. I assume you already knew that," She says, looking at a few papers that were in her hand. Without waiting for my answer, she continued. 

"Everything is already finalized. You'll be staying for three days. When you arrive at the airport in New York, there'll be a car waiting for you. Mrs. Hayes was kind enough to offer her personal driver to pick you up and drop you off at the hotel. Do you have any questions, Miss Mendes?" Her eyes meet mine as she hands me the papers I'll need.

"No, Mrs. Florence, thank you."

"I trust you will do well, Miss Mendes." She says sternly before I have a chance to leave.

She probably heard from Fisher about the broken engagement and, like most people, thinks that due to this unfortunate situation, I will become less reliable until this all blows over. "I can guarantee that I will do my absolute best, Mrs. Florence."

Giovanni Haynes           

I have only been in New York for three hours, and already my mother is breathing down my neck with the same questions she asks whenever she sees me. The woman is fifty-six with two grandchildren, but still she wants more. She just could not understand that I'm not the marrying type. Why would I choose to settle down with just one woman when I had the option to change them every other day or so. 

I am nothing like my brother, Bentley Haynes. He is the eldest and got married to his high school sweetheart, Ashira McKenzie-Haynes, when he was only twenty-one years old. He got his first child, Haylie Haynes, when he was twenty-three, and little Rayon followed two years after. Of course, my parents saw him as the perfect son, especially my father, since he was the one who took over his company.

"Gio, sweetheart, you know I'm getting older and older every day. Are you going to let me die before you marry a nice girl and get a whole football team of children?"

I choke on my coffee terribly. A whole football team, she says? I did not get along with children. They are devils. Which is why I had to trade gifts for some peace every time I saw my niece and nephew.

"Oh hush, Gio," She says patting my back. "Get him some water, Richard."

"Why can't you get it?" My thirteen-year-old bother asks. I swear that kid has the heart of a demon; he would rather watch his brother die from a coughing fit than fetch some water.

"Richard—"

"It's fine, Mother, I'm fine." I place a hand up, stopping her from starting an argument with Richie. Her words surprised me at the worst time, that was all.

"Remind me, why am I here? Richard has an interview, not me."

"Bent is unable to make it since he has a business meeting with the Italian ambassador, so my only option was to have you here; it is as simple as that."

 I glare at my brother. He is busy going over something on his tablet. I agree that I am his least favorite. Bentley is the one he always looked up to. I know for a fact that he wouldn't mind if he never sees me again.

"Is that all?"

"I love to see that face you make when Mother pressures you to get married, and I overheard her saying that Jasmine Lavigne is back." His lips curve into a smirk as he watches my expression.

"Mother, is this why you called me here?" I can feel the anger boiling within me. Of course, I couldn't get upset with my mother, but she knew very well what that woman had done.

She gives me a guilty look from across the island, "Giovanni, that is not the only reason. You have to be in the pictures tomorrow. This is not exactly all about your brother—that journalist from Flare will be interviewing all of us."

I stare down at the dark liquid in my cup. It was final. "I need something stronger," I say, grabbing my keys from the table and ignore my mother's protests as I head for the exit.

Jasmine Lavigne is someone I thought I'd never see again. I hoped I wouldn't, but knowing Martha Haynes, she has most likely set up a date for us. Perhaps a beautiful woman and some strong liquor will make my night better.