Jennifer Greene - The Billionaire’s Handler

It seemed as if a lifetime had passed since she’d known Maguire. There’d been life before she met him. And life since. And “life since” was all that seemed to matter.

The dealer shuffled, dealt. Maguire’s eyes met hers across the table. “The noise level bothering you?” he mouthed.

She shook her head, amazed at her own answer. Of course, all the casino noises were friendly, not scary. But it was only a couple weeks ago when she’d shrank from all noise. It was amazing to her-how much had changed. How much she’d changed.

The dealer dealt her a natural five-a potentially great card. She glanced at the chips Maguire had given her, and abruptly realized that her smallest chip was fifty dollars.

She almost had a heart attack. Got over it. And carefully bid a single chip.

Maguire picked up a face card in the deal, which in this game was the same as a zero. Still, anything could come through with the second card.

Carolina waited her turn. When the dealer sent her a second card, she shrieked-delicately-to reveal it was a four, making her two cards a natural baccarat. The dealer chuckled at her enthusiasm and paid her chips.

Twenty minutes later, Maguire burst onto the balcony with a grim face and alarmed eyes. “My God. Where have you been?”

“Just here. Enjoying the night.” She could see how worried he looked. “Hey, I’m sorry. I was trying to give you some space so you could play. And I was happy enough, just enjoying the sights and sounds from the balcony here-”

“But you just won. Why’d you tear off?”

“Because I won.”

“Huh? You won one hand.”

“Well, yeah.” She cocked her head, unsure what he was driving at. “I just made five hundred bucks on a single hand, Maguire. Why on earth would I bet again and risk losing that?”

He scooped an arm around her shoulders and shook his head. “C’mere, big gambler. I’ll buy you one more glass of wine before we pack it in.”

“I’ll buy! I’m the rich one tonight, remember!”

Oh, that smile, she thought. The hint of whiskers on his chin just made him look more roguish. He came through with the wine, and they both leaned back, inhaling the lights and warm night. “I saw another Porsche,” she told him. “Yellow like a banana. Or maybe like a yellow submarine.”

It was getting easier to woo smiles from him. Easier to get him to talk, let go a little. Eventually they wandered from the lighthearted to the more serious.

“You know what? I was thinking,” she murmured.

“Women shouldn’t do that. Men always get in trouble when that happens.”

“Oh, good. You’re scared.” She leaned against the balcony, felt the cool concrete against her thighs, felt the sparkle of moonlight and fairy dust from this magical place. From being with him. Here. Just the two of them. “Brace yourself.”

“Okay, I’m braced. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“I’ve been working with special kids for quite a while. I love it. I love them.”

“Is this the scary part? Because I’m pretty sure I already knew this.”

“I’m getting to the scary part. Sheesh. Give me a chance. So. I’ve worked in two schools and four different summer programs. The job I had this last year was the best, but you know what?”

“I’ll bite. What?”

“Maguire…I can tell you why people didn’t notice what was wrong with Tommy. People in my field are programmed, we’re trained, to work with the problems that we understand the children to have. Most of the classes are understaffed and underfunded-but that’s not the whole problem. Money never is.”

“Money never is? How can you be an American and think money isn’t the solution to every problem? But go on. I have to hear where you’re going with this.”

“Well…this is the thing. We have some great programs for special kids. But we also miss things because we have to be concerned with the diagnosis of what’s wrong. No child totally fits a pattern. Even a child with limited IQ can have spots when he’s brilliant. Even a child with a definite diagnosis can have other sides to his health, his character, that aren’t defined by what’s wrong with him. I’d like to take that to D.C.”

“Okay. Now you’re starting to scare me.”

“Oh, I realize I don’t have the power to do anything myself. But…I do have money now. I could bring some of the best minds together on my dollar. Look at the best of programs we have, how to work with the multiple dimensions of each child. Being an advocate for special kids… I could actually do that. With some money and some power. I could actually make a difference at a higher level than just an individual classroom.”

Maguire shifted, straightened up. “All right. I admit it. I didn’t dream you’d get here this fast. You’re starting to get it, how you can carve out your own life, now, aren’t you? You’re revving your own engine. This is a good idea.”

“I’m a smart girl, Maguire. You doubted I would come up with good ideas?”

“I never doubted you were smart. I worried that the piranhas out there had beaten you down.” He reached out a hand.

She took it.

“Ready to head back to the hotel? We’ve had a long day.”

They had, but her heart was suddenly thrumming to bluesy rhythms. Maguire might not know it, but his evening wasn’t completely over yet.

Back at the hotel, an open-gated elevator sent them to the third floor. Maguire could see that she was beat. He’d wanted her to have that kind of whirlwind day-so busy she didn’t have time to dwell on fears or worries, but not so crazy that she’d get over-exhausted.

This hotel, like others in Monaco, went over the top on gilt and opulence. Not Maguire’s choice of decors, but he’d be looking for the kind of place where Carolina’d feel pampered. The screw-up earlier in the day had been corrected. He plucked her key, 3543, opened her door and stepped in a foot, just to make sure the setup was correct.

The peach satin spread was turned down, a spray of Russian chocolates on the pillow, a dressing gown laid out. A light in the bathroom gleamed on the marble floor; soft lamplight pooled a welcoming glow by her bed. Two dozen peach roses spilled from an ivory vase. A basket of goodies-wine, cheese, fruit, snacks-was tucked on the far table.

Yes. All as ordered. Maguire backed out a step. “Okay, you. To sleep-for as long as you want to sleep. I’m in the next room, 3544.”

Carolina raised her eyebrows. “You’re not in a suite with me this time?”

Maguire had gotten smarter in direct proportion to her becoming more dangerous. “I’m right next door, and there’s a connecting door between us that’s locked on both sides. If you need me, I’m a knock away. But I don’t think you need anyone hovering close the way I was before.”

“You do think I’m stronger,” she said with a tone of satisfaction.

“I do. But you don’t need setbacks.” And he didn’t need to be any closer to that lithe body draped in black that clung in all the right places whenever she moved. “When you’re ready to be out and about tomorrow, just knock on the connecting door. I brought work with me that I can do right in the room, so if you want to sleep all day, it won’t matter to me. If you want to get up and moving, that’s fine, too.”

“That’s it?” she murmured. “No kiss good-night, Maguire?”

He saw the look in her eyes. Had to bolster a breath before coming through with a teasing, “Hey. Behave yourself.”

He let himself into his room, clunked down the key and kicked off his shoes. His mind was chanting mantras. Vanilla. Snow. Milk. Anything he could think of that would remind him of virgin white.