Melody Anne's Billionaire Universe: Controlling the Billionaire (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Billionaire Communication Book 1) Page 2

  Washed up at almost thirty-three years of age, it was time to head back home to San Diego and figure out what the hell to do with the rest of my life. That was how I wound up speaking to someone in the human resource office.

  What interested me?

  What different divisions of communication had my father dipped into?

  Was there one for me or was there an avenue that had not been paved and was ready for me to discover?

  My brothers had all found their place within Butler Industries. Carving out their own niches. I had no idea what would appeal to me. Maybe sitting in a sportscasters’ booth was where I belonged. That was part of the communications field. I knew about sports…well, not about a lot of them. Maybe knowing the basics about sports wasn’t enough. I could always call swim meets and water polo matches. I could definitely excel at those but it wasn’t like those sports were big or televised often.

  I was definitely at a loss as my phone began to ring.

  Recognizing the name displayed, I excused myself telling the HR dude that I had to take the call.

  “Hey, Morgan, I have a favor to ask you,” the voice of my college water polo coach boomed in my ear piece.

  “I’m all yours. I hope you’re about to save my life.” I was hoping he was about to offer me a position as an assistant coach.

  It wasn’t exactly a job position. It did involve the opportunity to stay in shape by volunteering my time to train with a college water polo team. My hip could handle a bit of time in the water here and there, just not full time, every day. And, of course, there were dry-land activities like running and weight lifting as well.

  I, quickly, told him I was in.

  However, that still didn’t solve my career problems. Sure I had money saved up but I couldn’t sit around and do nothing. I was used to a daily exercise regimen. It had been ingrained in me for most of my life. Up before the sun. In the water. Swimming laps. Treading water. Weight training. Goalkeeping drills. Stopping balls coming at my head at a million miles an hour from my fellow teammates.

  I was a lot like my father and his father who worked hard and didn’t like to sit idly by. That work ethic was instilled by my grandfather who started Butler Industries. He started with a job at the phone company for years—no college—and climbed up the ladder, figuratively and literally. He paid attention to what was going on around him. Learned the business—every aspect of it—and did research on his own in libraries and visiting other companies. Not that there was much competition when he was young, but he wanted to know as much as possible.

  When new technology showed up like cable television and wireless phones, he was intrigued and determined to use them to his advantage. He worked hard, saved money and used his earnings to buy his way into startup companies. Eventually, one paid off with him urging them to keep up with the changes—hiring students and looking for inventors.

  He was a very smart man, he knew that computers and the internet were the future. He never turned his back on the technological advancements like some others of his generation. Butler Communications is still striving to be knowledgeable; always learning and exploring what is on the next horizon.

  He instilled that practice in his children and made sure that they all were college educated—unlike him. All four children (three boys and a girl) were part of the company and each chose their own path as he had encouraged—three were still very much active. My grandfather lost one of his sons in a tragic automobile accident thirty some years ago.

  That accident brought my first brother, Mason, into my life—really a cousin—but he was raised by my parents and I didn’t know him as anything else until we were older. Only a year younger than me, people often thought we were twins. Funny that he was the one that stuck with water sports with me, only he was more into the swimming portion. In fact, since I got back he was bugging me to do triathlons with him. I was considering it, thinking it would allow me time to pick his brain about what Butler Industries had to offer. Looking through corporate postings wasn’t appealing to me and I was sure that the guy helping me found my lack of enthusiasm to everything he suggested annoying.

  Not wanting to waste any more of his time or mine, I thanked him and headed down and out of the building to grab food to take back upstairs to my apartment. Another plus to being related to the owner of the company, an executive penthouse that they no longer used was offered to me. It was not my style at all with its modern furnishings in a glass and steel box. It did have an amazing view of the harbor but I couldn’t wait to find a place of my own that was more “old world” with modern amenities. I was used to living in charming villages not high-rise buildings that had no warmth or history to them.

  Sitting, eating my baguette sandwich—not like ones from my hometown for the last ten years—I was wondering if I had made a mistake. Maybe I shouldn’t have rushed back to the states. Maybe I should’ve found something to do within the water polo world in Europe.

  It was purely disappointing to me listening to the HR guy droning on and on about a multitude of divisions. I don’t know what I was thinking. I could’ve looked online and read about Butler Industries just as easily and I could’ve been comfortable like I was once I changed into shorts and a t-shirt, skipping shoes altogether.

  Popping open an ice cold ginger beer, I began my own search of my family’s company. Interestingly enough, my brothers’ businesses were high on the list of successful divisions. Carter, the middle one, was into something to do with books that had several reviewers boasting about him. He always was the ultimate bookworm. But it was my baby brother, Redmond, probably the most ambitious of all of us that was doing stuff with branches of the military that appeared to be a bit secretive. Knowing him, I wasn’t sure how much he would divulge. He was most likely saving the world somehow. The most shocking, Mason, the super nerd, was doing something with making dating connections? Seriously? I would think he would be into computer stuff but not computerized dating.

  Hmmm… Maybe I needed to speak to Mason about more than just a career. Maybe he could come in handy with my social life before my parents…more like my father stepped in and started lining up a slew of dates for me. I could hear words my father had said to me in the past.

  “Morgan, you’re the oldest. You need to lead the way with your brothers. They look up to you. You’ll go to college, meet a nice girl, get married and give us grandchildren.”

  I had no idea why he thought that was the way things would go. He knew I wanted to play water polo forever, if I could. I barely ever had girlfriends unless they happened to be on the swim team. That was the only way they were going to see me. I lived on the pool deck. Studied on the pool deck. My dates consisted of grabbing food from the snack bar and talking between races and games or maybe going out to eat after swim meets or water polo games.

  Looking at what my brothers had achieved, it was easy to see that I was the least successful of us. I wouldn’t say that I hadn’t been successful in my own right. I had made a lot of money with endorsements and playing water polo, but I hadn’t created my own company. And I, definitely, hadn’t found a wife nor did I have children. Neither did my brothers so that would, once again, put me in the category of needs to improve according to my father’s words.

  “Who will carry on the Butler name with all of you bachelors?”

  Had he asked those questions to my brothers as well? It shouldn’t have been all on my shoulders and there were other branches of the Butler family with his own siblings. Of course, my father, Boyd Butler, had set the perfect example as the eldest son of my grandfather by taking the hand of his lovely bride, my mother, Faith Butler and, quickly, implanting her with me. Not to mention he did the noble thing and raised Mason. I wasn’t sure how any of us could live up to him. He was a great man.

  I wanted to be my own man and marry when I found the right woman for me…after I figured out what I wanted to be when I grew up.

  Chapter Three

  Waverly

  Sitti
ng at a long wooden table in a quiet public library with computer textbooks opened on a Sunday afternoon made me feel like a college student all over again. The days of being a student were not something I wished to repeat and studying intently was not the way I wanted to spend my weekend. At least it was cold and rainy outside so I didn’t have to feel like I was missing out on a nice walk or bike ride by the beach.

  We all have to do things we don’t want to do, Waverly. Suck it up. Maybe we’ll see a cute boy in the library. We haven’t dated in a while… And hey, there could be a computer guru in your future…or a spy like James Bond.

  I shook my head, refraining from reprimanding myself out loud and jotted down some notes that might pertain to my new position at Butler Industries. Heading up a cyber security division. That so didn’t sound like a job for me, but I could do it. I liked computers and the knowledge they provided, but I wasn’t sure about the protecting them part. Not that I had to really know how to do the work, I just had to manage, coordinate and make sure that the cyber experts were troubleshooting any problems that arose.

  When an interview was conducted with me—as a formality Mr. Butler assured me—I was, basically, told that I was going to serve as a pretty face. That having a woman in charge of a division was a good move for the company with the insurgence of women marching all over the country for their rights.

  First of all, I felt those statements were very sexist and shocking. Not that I made a big deal over them since the words were being spewed by a female HR executive for the company. I wasn’t sure if she was complaining or just stating facts. I kept my mouth shut tightly on both accounts, but in my head I was addressing how she mentioned my pretty face. I was average. Nothing about me stood out as dynamic.

  Don’t forget about your glowing personality, Waverly—that is a bonus.

  I was sure I would blend right in and go unnoticed by the computer nerds as I had when I minored in computer science back in college. My parents always stressed the importance of computers even though both of them hated working on them. They preferred to be outdoors, completely disconnected. Experience Life. Nature. Create Something. Make a Difference. Learn. Study. Teach. Give Back. It was obvious by my DNA makeup that I couldn’t go into the new position without a bit of knowledge. It might not have been needed or required but was necessary to me. That was why I had headed up to the local university’s bookstore to purchase some textbooks.

  I would be prepared to a point. I would shine. I would make everyone proud of me. I couldn’t let Mr. Butler down and, more importantly, I didn’t want him to report back to Joseph that he had given me a job and that I took it for granted. I already knew that my surrogate father had pulled some strings to allow me to grow and expand my horizons rather than living in my parents’ shadow which I had done for long enough according to him.

  Joseph had tried to get me out in the world by sending me off on business trips, but I always returned to Seattle and my day to day life. I think he even planted a few single eligible bachelors in my line of sight within the Anderson building as well as trips. I often wondered, did he expect me to say I wasn’t coming back…I’ve fallen in love? He probably hoped for that knowing the way he was always involved in matchmaking schemes. I was always waiting for a certain San Diego man to pop up, but none had been blatantly thrown in my face. If they had been, I hadn’t noticed any of them or succumbed to anyone, like I hadn’t on business trips.

  To his disappointment, I had never fallen for anyone… I had only ever fallen head over heels for one boy on a crazy summer backpacking trip in Europe. That was, also, the only time I ever thought about relocating. Giving up my everyday life for a romantic adventure in the South of France. Starting over in a foreign land for love.

  I never expected to seriously meet anyone when I left Seattle to roam freely around Europe for three months. A graduation from college gift supplied by my parents, I packed an oversized but lightweight backpack and boarded a plane with a passport in hand. I had no real schedule, I just knew countries and cities I wanted to visit and where I needed to end up to fly home. Some places I had already been to as a kid but I barely remembered them so it felt brand new as I touched down in London to begin my trip.

  And as I thought, no one had taken a fancy to me…that is, until I reached the last leg of my self-guided tour.

  “Are you okay?” I understood in French.

  Scared and leery of the water current surrounding me, I answered in English—not sure I could sum up my fear of the ocean using my limited high school French. “I’m not a very good swimmer… Correction. I don’t really know how to swim more than floating, dog paddling and treading water…oh, and a little side stroke.”

  He laughed…and apparently, understood me. “I can help you if you want to go out in the deeper water. It’s pretty calm.”

  His voice shocked me. “You’re English is perfect. You sound very American but you seem like a local.” Not sure what it was about him that I associated with French but he just seemed nothing like a tourist. Like he belonged there.

  Duh, Waverly. American expats. You know all about them.

  “I live here… Well, not here in this town…” He waved his muscular arm, pointing toward the quaint village. “…but nearby. American in France playing water polo… I’m Maverick.”

  “No wonder you’re a good swimmer…” And so fit. “I’m Waverly and ready to get out. Lunchtime.” I found myself mimicking his earlier gesture toward a row of cafés off in the distance. “Before they close up for the late afternoon. I learned that the hard way a couple of times.”

  The word hard seemed to stand out as his body danced in front of my eyes. God he was so gorgeous. I couldn’t wait to slip on my thick, very unattractive glasses to get a better look at every detail of him before leaving him behind. I needed to stop gawking at him I silently told myself before turning around from the beautiful sight.

  To my surprise, he shouted out to me as I made a quick departure from the sea after tucking my bits into my too small bikini. “Let me buy you lunch and then we can come back for your swim lesson.”

  Was he crazy? He didn’t even know me. Stranger danger. I could be a black widow, a praying mantis creature. Mates and kills. Why was I even thinking of such a thing? I should be the one worried about talking to a stranger. Maybe it was because I had traveled all over the world with my parents and they spoke to everyone—always making new friends. Funny that I would think about his safety…or mating. I hadn’t even had full intercourse with a boy.

  I mention full intercourse because there was a nerdy boy in high school that nearly talked me into losing my virginity to him and maybe I did. Not sure what the full definition is if your hymen is not broke and he only gets the tip partially in when you wiggle out from under him, screaming “no.”

  I couldn’t imagine saying no to anything Maverick suggested and yet, I didn’t have time to indulge his offer… His hands on me as he held me floating on the water and told me to kick my feet and move my arms. I had a swim lesson once as a child and that was what I remembered. I never had fantasies of that swim instructor but, then again, I was young and it wasn’t given by a gorgeous hard-bodied guy.

  “I’m afraid that won’t…won’t work…” My words came out in a sputter as he came close enough for me to feel the heat from his body. “I have to get back… I have an arrange…an arranged ride back to Marseille.”

  A smirk on his face had me thinking that he knew exactly what he was doing to me. “You’re in luck, I live in Marseille.”

  Like I said before, I couldn’t say no to him for some reason. A total stranger. An American. It may have been the fact that he was absolutely gorgeous with blue-green eyes, bleached out long-ish blond hair and the body… I don’t know what to say other than he looked like a Greek God. He played water polo. I don’t think I have ever seen a water sport athlete without an amazing physique.

  Dressed, with my sundress pulled over my suit, I reached into my navy blue and beige
canvas tote bag for my black-framed glasses and placed them on the bridge of my nose. Then I looked up at the clothed sun god and waited for him to back out of his offer, but he just presented me with a dazzling smile.

  “Do you like mussels?”

  Did he say mussels as in shell creatures or muscles as in his body overrun with them? Don’t be silly, Waverly.

  Figuring that he had to be talking about food—he wouldn’t be asking me if I liked his muscles—I answered hesitantly, “Umm…I’ve never had them.”

  “No? Well then, you must try them. They’re cooked in garlicky butter and come with a baguette to sop up the delicious sauce. Nothing like it.” He looked delicious himself. “I’m assuming you like garlic…” His words continued as we walked side by side, away from the beach and to a boardwalk that looked out to a marina.

  There were so many places to choose from but he seemed to know exactly where we should go. Without hesitation, he guided me with his hand on my lower back to a vacant table and then pulled out a chair for me. I swooned from that moment; listening to him speaking French rapidly to the waiter until the end of our meal that would never be forgotten.

  Maverick was right, the mussels were wonderful and so was the plate of assorted cheeses, olives and dried fruits that followed. It was my first time experiencing a true dining experience with a boy…man, really. It was obvious he had gotten into the whole French culture and food as he told me about the village as well as everything that was on each plate put before us.

  My mother would have relished the whole lunch experience and soaked up my lunch-date’s company. She had been so into the South of France vibe since reading a book written by an Englishman who relocated to the region. Living vicariously through the book, she learned how things worked with the locals along with the region’s great cuisine. She and my father had toured much of the Provence region exploring places outlined by the author without me. They said it was far too romantic for me and that I would be terribly bored until I was much older. I was starting to realize what she meant as my companion interrupted my memory.