Billionaire's Lost Girl

7

Max

New York Times.

A woman cries out for help, saying she has a child for billionaire CEO Max Sturm.

From news reaching our headquarters, according to the allegations brought forward by the woman, Max Sturm had seduced and promised that he'd marry her during the launch party of his New York Times bestseller ‘The Golden Ones’ a few years ago. She'd agreed and slept with the award-winning author, but he left her the next morning without a note or anything to contact him. He didn't even reveal his real name to her. She took the heartbreak in stride and found out that she was pregnant a few months later, but didn't abort the baby because she's a Christian. She was never one for the news, or trends so it was little wonder why it took her all this while to get hold of him...

“What the actual f**k?” I stopped reading at that, slammed the damn papers down, and exhaled in exasperation. I swear to God, people could be really desperate especially when it came to wealth. Glancing at the picture of the supposed woman I'd slept with and impregnated— a feeling of revulsion mixed with hatred ran through my veins. I'd never seen her in my entire life, and I could very well tell that she was put up for this by one of my rival companies. Those ninnies could do anything to see the public seething at my reputation.

They wanted to sell papers so bad at my expense. The most infuriating thing was that I could do nothing about it. I was powerless, and my cry for help would only come across as a joke. I basically had to sit bad and watch the bad reviews roll in.

I pulled out my phone, which was ringing loudly from my pocket. It was Manny. No doubt, he'd read the papers too. “Good timing. I was just about to throw my phone at the wall.”

He chuckled— his laughter rich and making my eardrums go pop. I'd always hated how deep everything about him sounded. “She even gave them a picture of your supposed baby. I'm currently looking at the child and laughing because she has zero resemblance to you.”

“Do you think that the public can spot the difference too?” I queried, a newfound hope surging in my chest. Manny scoffed.

“We both know that the New York Times has sold them enough bad stories of you that they wouldn't even bother thinking that maybe you're innocent. Look man, I think you should stay on a low for a while. No parties, or girls for at least a few months so the steam can cool off.”

“That's impossible, and you know that,” I pinched the bridge of my nose, looking down the skyline to the bustling city streets below. “s*x is a basic need, Manny. I can't stop because of some bad reviews.”

I practically had a new girl in my condo every day of the week. The girl for the day, Alsina was already waiting for me back home, donning nothing but pink, sexy lingerie in my kitchen from the photo she'd sent me. My c**k twitched and I ran a hand through my hair, trying to think about nonsexual stuff. It was hard.

“You can have girls over without the public knowledge at all. And you have to warn them not to tell on you afterward. The girls are a gossip these days.”

“Don't you think I've tried that before?” I snorted. “After we're through, and I pay them, they scurry to the press with one lie or the other to get cheap publicity. The news media pay them loads for a cover story and voila! My face appears in the papers the next day and they're satisfied with themselves.”

“And you still don't want to give girls a break? Dude, stop being daft. You won't die if you stay celibate for five months.”

I ran a hand through my hair. “I honestly can't remember a definite time when I was celibate for two weeks, but I understand what you're saying. Fine. I'll try my best to stay off the media for the next few weeks and see how it goes.”

“Good boy,” Manny made a ticking sound with my tongue. “Which also means that you won't be attending Ryan's birthday party tomorrow. I know it might sound absurd, but dude, Ryan himself can't control the paparazzi. And they'd sure as hell be there to cover the event uninvited.”

Impossible. I'd been looking forward to the party all week. “So what would you have me do tomorrow while you guys are having a good time drinking and partying?” I scowled. “Sit back in the office and work my arse off? Relax, it's a mere party, not like I'm planning to be caught having an orgy.”

Manny sighed, and I could picture him taking off his glasses like he normally did whenever he was exasperated with my antics. “The public might be triggered by your presence, Max. These reviews are more powerful than you think, and I bet the whole of New York has read all about your sexcapades. Plus, this supposed woman who claims to have a child for you might be there to incite more drama. You've got to be on a severe low. The lowest.”

I mulled over his words briefly. It made sense. “Alright then. I'll do as you say.”

“I hope so. I don't want to wake up on Monday and see your face splattered on the cover of the Times, accompanied by, yet again, another absurd headline.” He hung up.

I couldn't promise anything. I almost set my phone down on the table but messages were already pouring in from the two beautiful girls I'd wooed in Walmart yesterday.

Hannah: Dinner today at my house? p***y on the menu. *Inserts kiss emoji*

I forgot about Manny and ‘staying on a low for a minute, my c**k twitching as I typed off a reply hastily.

Badboy Max: Yeah babe. Expect me there by 7.

Hannah: Okay love.

I barely had the slightest idea who Hannah was from the two yesterday. I clicked on her message profile pic, disappointed when I saw that she'd put up the face of a cat, probably hers, instead of her real face. I didn't even know the address of where she lived and I typed the question before leaving her chat box to the second lady.

Madison: Are you free right now, boo? I think the pin on my brassier caught on the door. I'm the only one home and I've been standing, trying to get it out but it won't budge. Can you come to help me? *Inserts puppy-eyed emoji*

I chuckled at her ridiculous lie as I typed a response.

Badboy Max: Only if you've got your p***y up to be eaten. I'm kidding. Expect me over in five.

Madison: Okay love.

I didn't even have her address as well...

And Alsina was waiting for me.

— — — —

With only a few minutes left until my last meeting for the day, I made two pots of coffee and browsed through some paperwork I was hoping to work on later in the evening. I'd rang my secretary over an hour ago, demanding that she prepared a new schedule for my meetings tomorrow since I wouldn't be attending Ryan's birthday bash anymore. I also instructed her to send him some flowers, a card, and the expensive wristwatch I'd ordered for him from Spain. Ryan had an obsession with wristwatches, so it was the most suitable gift.

Sifting through f*******:, I came across a couple photographed in their wedding attire. The lady was all smiles and looked elegant, with a high ponytail and beautiful green eyes that reminded me of Cherry. Damn, now that I thought about her, I silently wondered how beautiful she would look donned in a wedding dress, a bright smile on her face as she up over at me adoringly.

Contrary to what my friends had told me that evening, the more I tried not to think about her, the more I found myself doing so. I'd never had any s****l experience with a girl that left me remotely satisfied the way she did. I would've sworn off s*x entirely, but I was already addicted, even though I didn't thoroughly enjoy it. Sometimes I flew to Manhattan to visit that same bar at weekends, hoping to see her there but no luck. I wasn't even sure she'd be pleased to see me because our parting had been painful. I regretted ever lying to her every single day.

Bouncing off my seat, I began to pace the floors. Gina, my secretary was supposed to be here by now. From my timetable, I had one last meeting for the day. She had the details of the exact hall that was to be used and she was running late. Again.

It was slowly becoming a habit. And I'd begun to believe that she did it on purpose, perhaps despite me. When she would eventually show up, she had no remorse whatsoever so an apology was out of the equation. I'd tried tolerating her misdemeanor because she was related to Manny somehow, and Manny was one of my best friends but each day I hoped she'd change, she ended up stretching my patience thin by an extra inch. I wasn't a man of patience, and I'd given her enough grace already.

Fifteen minutes past six, I decided to let sleeping dogs lie and call her desk. Perhaps she was so busy and had probably forgotten.

She picked up on the first ring, her voice calm and a bit high-pitched. “Yes, Mr. Sturm?”

“Did you forget that I have one last meeting before the day is over?” I asked, running a hand through my hair and suppressing the urge to yell. That'd be so dramatic. “It's fifteen minutes past six already, and from my timetable, the meeting has already started five minutes ago. This is highly unprofessional.”

“I'm so sorry, Mr. Sturm!” I heard papers being shuffled and the sound of a chair screeching as it was being scooted back. “I honestly forgot all about the meeting. Will be on my way now.”

I hung up, exhaling in relief when she walked in two seconds later with a notepad firm underneath her left armpit. She had a pen behind her ears that were a bit pointy at the end like an elf. It made her look quirky. “I'm so sorry for the delay, Sir.”

I grunted, pulling on my coat. “Where's the meeting taking place?”

She whipped up her notepad to check. “Fourth hall, third floor. We can get there within five minutes if we take the elevator.”

After the meeting which left me mentally drained due to a lot of pointless arguments by a clientele company, I got back to the office by seven to pack up for the day. “Thank you, Gina. It's getting late. You can leave now.”

She hesitated, lingering at the door for a while. I was so busy stuffing the paperwork I was hoping to get done tonight in my briefcase that I hadn't noticed when she turned the lock and slipped off her suit coat.

I gasped when I eventually lifted my eyes just as her coat fell to the floor. “Jesus Christ.”

She smiled creepily at me, advancing closer. I fought to keep my eyes trained on her face, my voice cold and hoarse. “What the hell do you think you're doing.”

“What does it look like I'm doing, Mr. Sturm?” she giggled like a f****d up schoolgirl, settling on the chair opposite and leaning back comfortably. Her n*****s were pink and pointy through her thin, white camisole. It was distracting. “I've read all about your women in the tabloids, and how you leave them satisfied in bed. How magical your d**k feels, and I want to check it out for real.”

I shook my head, walking towards the door. I drew it open after turning the lock and pointed to the dark, empty corridor. “You're a disappointment. Get out of my office and never return.”

She chuckled, as though I'd just said something funny. “You can't fire me. Manny's your friend, so I'm family.”

“That's right, Manny is my friend. But you're not family. Wait until I tell him how much of a slut his cousin is.”

“Harsh words, Mr. Sturm,” she wagged a finger, a dangerous glint in her eyes. I schooled my face into one of neutrality, not fazed by her. “My request is simple. I want to feel your magic. I want you to f**k me just how you like it, on your office table and the floor. Is that too much for me to ask for?”

That's impossible so stop asking!

Impatient, I pulled her up by the wrist, pushing her towards the door. I shoved her out and banged it s**t, not without telling her, “You're fired. Don't bother coming back here tomorrow because your stuff will be waiting for you in the trash can outside.”

“You'll regret this,” she said from the other side of the door. “One day you'll regret not taking me up on my offer. And it'll be soon. I can feel it.”

“I'm positive it'll never come.”

“We'll see.”