Page 29 of BillionHeir

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Maxwell

“Barnaby, what is this building used for?”

Chloe has only just entered the automatic doors before I am quizzing my driver.

“Hospital, sir.”

Hospital?

Is Chloe ill?

I immediately discard that thought. I vaguely remember her telling me about her mother being sick while she was in college. Could that be what is going on?

Unfortunately, the only clue I have is Chloe’s last name, and I am not even sure if that is her mother’s surname or not. I have told her about my parents, but I haven’t really heard much about hers. In fact, she has never even mentioned her father. He could be dead for all I know.

I pull out my phone and dial Ethan’s number as Barnaby steers us in the direction of my hotel. I have avoided this for as long as I can, but now I need to know everything.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Banks.”

“Ethan, how many times do I have to say it?” I bark, not in the mood for this formal bullshit.

“Uh, sorry, Maxwell,” he says hurriedly.

“I need you to find out everything you can about Chloe. Her parents, possible siblings, past marriages, the whole nine yards.”

“Done. But do you care to explain?”

“I am just realizing that I didn’t do a very thorough background check on her when she was hired. I would like to remedy that.” It is a lie, and an obvious one at that, but Ethan is not going to call me on it.

“If that is what you are worried about, I have already done a pretty deep dive on her. She is clean as a whistle. No kids, no marriages, no criminal activity. She is about as good as they come these days.”

That sparks my interest. “When did you do that? ”

“Before I extended the initial offer. Did you really think I was just going to let some random woman take over your care? Seriously, Maxwell, I am not just going to ship you up to Maine with a psychopath.”

“Chloe is not a psychopath.”

“Well, we didn’t know that at the time, now did we?”

“I did,” I argue like a petulant child. “She is Jenna’s best friend. How bad could she be?”

“You really have no idea, do you? People pretend to be normal all day every day, and some are really convincing. But background checks don’t lie.”

“Sounds like you are speaking from experience.”

“Women can be crazy. Let’s just leave it at that. Do you want me to send over what I have? You can comb through it yourself and email me if there is anything else you need.”

“That will do.”

“Okay, I will email it to you right now. Is there anything else you need?”

“No, that is all for today.”

Before I hang up, I feel a flash of affection for the assistant who has become my right-hand man. I clear my throat before speaking again.

“Thank you, Ethan. For everything. ”

Ethan is so quiet on the other end of the line that I think he has already ended the call. When I pull my phone away from my ear to double check, I hear him sniff slightly.

“You are welcome, Maxwell. It is an honor.”

A minute after we hang up, Ethan’s email comes through as promised.

I still can’t believe that he checked her out already.

Now I just have to hope that the answer to what is going on with her can somehow be found in her file.

I won’t be able to really read through it until I get to my hotel and pull it up on my computer.

It takes Barnaby forever to reach my hotel in the heart of London, through no fault of his own. Traffic has been a nightmare. By the time we pull in, I am restless and tense, ready to get checked in so that I can learn more about the woman who I have lived with for nearly two months.

It isn’t lost on me that I probably could have found out anything I wanted to know about her by merely asking. I am annoyed with myself, honestly. I fucked everything up in more ways than one, but now I am working on fixing it. I just have to know what I am working with first.

I walk up to the front desk and give the receptionist my name. Her eyes widen slightly and she stands up a little straighter, but those are the only signs that she knows who I am. I stay here every time I am in town, and I suspect I have a reputation .

“Yes, sir, Mr. Banks. We have the penthouse suite all ready for you.”

She hands me an envelope with two key cards in it, and I leave the desk without another word.

I scan my card in the elevator and wait as it takes me up to the penthouse.

The door opens directly into the foyer of my suite where there is a round table filled with a large arrangement of flowers and an opulent mirror framed in gold.

I go immediately to my luggage in the bedroom and get out my laptop, taking it with me to the large desk that fills one corner of the living room.

I don’t linger on the views of downtown London out the floor-to-ceiling windows that span two of the four walls.

Instead, I sit down, open my laptop, and immediately log into my email.

I open the file and sift through the documents Ethan sent.

It all seems fairly straight forward. Chloe grew up in Essex with her mother.

There is nothing here about her father at all.

His name isn’t even on the birth certificate.

After she finished secondary school, she moved to Boston where she earned her nursing degree at Northeastern.

She has worked at two institutions since she graduated, and by all accounts she was an exemplary and incredibly valued employee at both places. That is not at all surprising. In the short time I have known her, she has been more professional and well-mannered than I deserved .

But there is nothing in here that would tell me why she just walked into a hospital.

Is she looking for a job? But she has no reason to work after the amount of money I paid her to care for me.

Suddenly, I remember that I have another source who may have just the information I am looking for. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this in the first place.

I pull out my phone and call my lawyer.

“Do you know what time it is?” Jackson asks, his voice groggy from sleep.

“Is that Maxwell?” I faintly hear Jenna ask in the background.

“Yeah,” he whispers.

“Tell that asshole to fuck off,” she says a little louder. I don’t know how much she knows, but clearly she has heard something. And I don’t fault her for being angry.

I look at the clock on my screen and calculate mental time zone math, then wince. It is lunch time here in the UK, which means it is the early hours of the morning in Wyoming.

“Sorry, I am in London. I didn’t think. Call me back when you get up,” I say, feeling awful for disturbing them.

Jackson sighs. The sound of rustling sheets comes through the line, then a door opens and shuts. He clears his throat before speaking again. “No, it is fine. I am up. What is going on? Is everything okay?”

“Honestly, no. Everything is not okay. ”

“I am not well versed on international law, but I know a lawyer over there who could get you out of almost anything.” I can hear his voice switching into work mode.

“It is not that,” I explain. “It is Chloe.”

“Wait, what?” Jackson asks, sounding genuinely confused. “Is something wrong with her?”

“That is what I am calling to ask you. I just watched her get out of the car with me and walk into the hospital.”

“Shouldn’t you be asking her this?”

I suppose the man does have a point, but he doesn’t know about our argument. Or does he?

“That is beside the point. If there is something you know, you need to tell me, Jackson.”

“If Chloe doesn’t want you to know, I am not going to violate her trust. I am sorry, Maxwell, but if you want to know what is going on with her, you need to ask her yourself.”

“I know you know what is going on. Her best friend was lying next to you in bed. Is Chloe sick?” I ask, almost pleading with him.

“You have spent the last two months with her, and you don’t know?” he asks.

“I don’t know what I know anymore, Jackson. She left without notice. I narrowly made it onto the same flight as her, but she will barely talk to me. I don’t know what to do,” I confess .

“Fix it,” he says as though it is not impossible.

“But how?”

“I don’t know, Max. Women are all different.

What works for one isn’t going to work for another.

Lord knows I am still fighting an uphill battle with Jenna half the time, but that is part of what I love about her.

I am always learning something new. If you can’t figure it out, then maybe it just wasn’t meant to be. ”

I sigh into the phone.

“I know that wasn’t what you wanted to hear,” Jackson says when I don’t say anything for a while.

“I am just mad because I know that you are right,” I finally concede.

“Is there anything else, or can I go back to bed?” Jackson asks, trying to cover up a yawn.

“Get some sleep.”

“For what it is worth, I never thought I would ever see you this worked up over a woman. Take my advice and just talk to her. Communication is the most important part of a relationship.”

“When did you get so wise?”

“That is why you pay me the big bucks.”

I chuckle into the phone and let my friend get back to sleep.

I thought for sure that Jackson would give me all the information I was looking for. I suppose it does make me feel better to know that he is not a gossip. Not that I ever wondered. He is one of the most honorable men I have met.

But I am still sitting here with no answers.

The rest of the day passes in a bit of a blur. I order a late lunch from room service as the East Coast wakes up and spend a good part of the afternoon working while trying to keep my mind off of Chloe and how catastrophically I have screwed things up with her.

Ethan has identified a startup that is on the verge of a potentially game-changing technology breakthrough that I have been dying to get my hands on.

The only problem is that it looks like they are going to run out of money first. It is a perfect opportunity for me to step in as an investor, save their company, and secure myself an equity stake in their future success.

It has been a nice way to get back into the swing of things.

But after dinner, even business deals aren’t enough to keep my mind off the woman who has made me rethink everything. Maybe Jackson is right. Could it really be as easy as just talking with her?

Without overthinking it, I fire off a text to the number she gave me this morning.

Can I take you out tomorrow?

I watch as the response bubbles come onto the screen and then disappear. I wait impatiently, staring at the screen until they finally reappear and then resolve into words .

I am busy.

I probably deserve that, but I am not going to be deterred.

You have to eat sometime. Breakfast, Lunch, or Dinner? Pick the time and place. I need to see you.

It reads a little desperate, but it is the truth.

Honestly, Maxwell, I really don’t understand your behavior.

I can practically hear the exasperation in her voice as I read the text. I am still deciding how to respond when those three little bubbles appear again.

But fine. If you are so insistent, you may pick me up at one o’clock where you dropped me off. We can have tea around the corner. I will give you one hour.

I smile to myself even as I am immediately filled with anxiety. This is it. I am not naive enough to believe that she will give me another chance after this.

Done.