In Love With Mr. Billionaire - Chapter 12: Chapter 12

***Aaron's POV***
"Dig into his records and come back to me in 15 minutes," I ordered my PA, Carter, who walked out of my office immediately to do what was ordered.
A few days ago, it was brought to my notice by my company's investigator, Melissa, that there had been a breach of confidentiality by one of the employees in the London branch. A lot of secret data from various ongoing and future projects have been disclosed to a third party in return for a meager sum of money. Since then, Melissa had been working in close association with the branch manager in London to track down the traitor.
A phone call, only a few minutes ago, informed me of the successful search and the whistleblower was finally caught. All that was needed now was for me to get details on his records before I pay a personal visit to him and make that bastard regret his decision of crossing me.
I shut the file, lying on my desk, that contained a brief list of all the information that was stolen in the last few months from the company. Going through it, I was assured that it was not something that could take down my company or cause substantial harm, but it could lead to revenue loss for the next couple of months.
No matter how small the loss was, it was never a good idea to mess with my company and the one who was behind it was going to take some notes on it quite soon.
I ran my fingers through my hair in frustration as I got up from my chair to look at the beautiful view outside. The rising sun, hiding behind the clouds, coloured the New York's skyline in an orangish hue. The streets were relatively silent as it was still an hour before the usual office hours.
The weekend staff was yet to come to work and I had taken the day off to visit the ongoing construction around the upcoming art museum that the company was building. The angelic face that had invaded my sleep every single night for the past week came to my mind and I shook my head. I was supposed to be at home, looking forward to spending my day with the girl that has been constantly on my mind since the first time I laid eyes on her, but here I was digging into people's records because they were braindead to fear the consequences of going against their boss.
As soon as Carter had informed me of the situation in the office, I called for an early meeting. If there was a slight chance that I could take care of the situation at the office without jeopardizing my plans for the weekend with the one girl I have even been genuinely interested in, I was going to take it.
There was a knock on the door and Carter entered with a couple of files in his hands. He flipped open the one on the top and offered it to me.
"His name is Jason Walter," Carter explained as I read through the information, "he used to work here, in the headquarters, as an accountant, before he applied for a transfer and was thus transferred to our London branch a few months ago. He's forty-three with a dead wife and three children—a girl and two boys, to be precise."
I gave him a hard glare. "I'm not planning on kidnapping his family, Carter. Just tell me what's required."
"Walter has been passing information to another firm for a while. It was always tidbits and nothing of much importance until now. The manager claims he was in the dark about everything happening under his nose, but excuse my language, sir, I call it bullshit. Melissa dug into both their records and their bank statement to show a huge sum of money was transferred to their accounts by a third party. A team is working on it now and will get back to you as soon as they find anything about who paid them for it," Carter explained.
He flipped through the pages of the file in his hand and passed it to me. It contained the bank statements of Walter and the manager, along with a detailed view of how the information was traded between them.
I tossed the file to my desk while Carter patiently waited for further orders. Being the efficient assistant he was, he had done his part of the work and the only thing left now was to get hold of this Walter guy and make him regret his life choices.
"Call Mark and tell him to get the jet ready. I'll be leaving for London tonight," I instructed and Carter immediately took out his phone to call my pilot. Grabbing my coat, I walked out of my office with Carter following a few steps behind.
While I was passing by the employees' cubicles that were mostly empty, owing to the early hours and the weekend, I was stopped by the voices of a man and a woman laughing about something. They were standing near the photocopy machine, with a copy of Melissa's case file in their hands. Their ID cards were not visible from the distance but the files in their hands spoke for themselves. They were a part of the team working on the Walter case.
It was not their laughter, but the topic of their discussion that caught my attention.
"I pity the dude for getting caught," the man said, making the woman laugh.
"I'll sell my soul for thirty thousand dollars, some company documents are nothing in front of that," the woman said, proud of her claim.
More laughs were exchanged along with compassion and sometimes jealousy for Walter till I made my presence known to them.
"I had no idea how compassionate my employees were to backstabbers in the company." The man jumped around to look at the source of the voice whereas the woman took a few steps back, noticing it was me.
"Mr Woodwords!" The man exclaimed.
"We were not- Mr Woodwords, we were just-" the woman started to say, but since I had already spent much more time in the office than was required, I cut her off and got straight to the point.
"Don't worry, Walter will be losing his job very soon and I think you both will be able to sympathize with him a lot more if you can relate with him." Their eyes went wide with the implication of the statement.
"Carter," I turned to my assistant and he stepped forward, coming to stand beside me, "I want their resignations on my desk the first thing tomorrow morning."
"But Mr Woodwords-" the man started to say, but it was Carter who interrupted him this time.
"No need to say more. You both are already fired and Mr Woodwords doesn't really change his decisions," he said with a finality in his voice that ceased any further argument on the topic.
This was why he was my PA.
I went straight to the entrance of the office building where my favorite sports car was already waiting for me. Getting inside, I sped off to the construction site. My head was still wrapped around the Walter case with my anger increasing every passing second. Since driving always helped me calm my temper, I focused on the road ahead and tried to rid my head of the thoughts of destroying the man for trying to harm my company.
The work on the site was halfway through completion. By the end of the month, the area along with the museum was going to be open for the general public.
The safety signs blocking the road were removed by the guards for my car to make its way straight to where the museum was being furnished. I was greeted by the construction manager at the entrance, who then briefed me about the progress made. On my special orders, a new batch of sculptures and paintings were delivered last night that were now safely resting in one of the many halls inside the museum.
Time passed by, but the girl I had been waiting for all morning was nowhere to be seen. I had started to think of her persistence for not allowing me to pick her up from her home as an excuse to ditch me when the guard informed me of her arrival.
One look at her fresh face was all it needed for all the fury that was clouding my brain since morning to drain out of my head. She was indeed the prettiest woman I had ever met.
The way her eyes had lit up with joy seeing the paintings and sculptures was a fascinating sight. Her understanding of the different paintings and the insights she gave me about them, even though being completely uninteresting to me, was something I could listen to all day.
She had caught my attention the instant I saw her outside the jewelry store, standing near my car, observing it with horror on her face. It had all gone to shit when I noticed she crashed into my car. Not only did this girl destroyed my favorite car, but she also had the audacity to hurl money at my face when I tried to confront her about it. I was shocked, too shocked to react and before I could process it all and return to my senses, she was gone.
I tried to search for her. Never have I ever been treated like that. I was furious enough to plan to destroy her and everything good in her life. Melissa was put on the task to find her, but it was difficult since the memory of her beautiful face was all I had left of that incident with me.
Then, as if fate wanted us to collide, I met her at the party. It would be a lie to say that I was not awestruck by her beauty there. She was there with her family and soon I realized she was the daughter of my dad's good for nothing asshole of a friend, James. Like pieces of a jigsaw falling into place, it had all started to make sense. She was James' daughter, no wonder she was a rich brat who would go around shoving money in people's faces—sometimes literally.
The dance had been a mere formality. I wanted her to know who she was dealing with. I wanted her to realize neither she nor her father will ever be able to manipulate me. Nothing of my plans had worked the moment we started to dance. The regret was on her face even before I spoke, and the worried glances she threw at her father made me wonder if there was something wrong there.
The dinner date was nowhere close to what I had expected. I thought getting to know her would make me realize it was all a facade, that the person behind the sweet smile was just like her father, a manipulative asshole, but I was pleasantly surprised that I was wrong about her, yet again. Caroline was a delightful dinner companion and an excellent conversationalist.
Ever since that day, I wanted her, more than any woman I had ever wanted in my life. I was not used to running after women, it was them who threw themselves at me and yet here I was, making dinner and weekend plans to get to know her better.
"Where are we going now?" Caroline asked as I guided her out of the dome-shaped hall to the outer hall of the museum.
"I told you I'll need your advice."
The museum exhibit designer was standing at the center of the hall, looking around when he saw me and said, "this place itself is a work of art, Mr Woodowrds. The paintings and sculptures will never be able to compete with it."
Being surrounded by people who would always want something from me, I could differentiate between genuine appreciation and flattery with excellence. It was not something I appreciated. "I assure you they will if you're any good at your work." The tone startled the designer—there will be no more flattery for the rest of the day. It had also made Caroline look at me with surprise, but I returned her glance with an assuring smile.
"This is Caroline Marshall, an art fanatic," I introduced her to the designer who now chose his words with great care.
"I want you to work with him in choosing a display layout for this place," I told her to which she chuckled. Then, realizing I was serious, her eyes went wide.
"You're not serious."
I put on a poker face and suppressed my smile that was forcing itself to my lips, watching her horrified by the suggestion. "This is my serious face, Caroline."
"You can't trust me with something this important," Caroline argued.
"I'm not asking you to take over his job, Caroline." The designer stiffened next to her, scared of the possibility. "You said you love art. The way you told me about the paintings shows you have an excellent vision when it comes to that. I'd like to see what your ideas are about this place."
"But why?"
"Do you not want to?"
"I—" she opened her mouth to say, then stopped. I could feel she was always holding herself back. Years of dealing with all kinds of people had made me an excellent judge of character, and Caroline Marshall was the kind who had trapped herself in a protective shell of her own making, avoiding everyone and everything who threatened to pull her out of it. What made her hide herself in that shell was something I could not figure out.
"I'd love to, but I don't want to be a hurdle for your designer and create trouble for you," she confessed.
"Well, that's a startling change from our first meeting," I teased. "Don't worry, the instant I feel you're more trouble than help, I'll pull you from the pile of art back to me."
It was settled then. Caroline helped Justin, the exhibit designer with the layout while I looked over the other things happening at the site. Every time she thought of a new design or something better than what we had previously decided, she would eagerly come to me, asking for my advice on the matter, before offering the idea to Justin.
The previous layout that the designer had made was indeed great as it took the overall design in mind, but Caroline had more insight on what it all symbolized. Her reasons for why a particular art piece was supposed to be at a certain place was thoughtful and refreshing and it gave no reason to why it should be any other way.
I watched her with growing admiration as she stood in front of a plain wall, her head cocked to a side, lost in thought. She was a delight to be around. Her genuine happiness over the smallest things was admirable and fascinating. Her joy at seeing and getting to work at the museum was like a little kid who was given free access to a candy store.
"Quite an interesting wall, is it?" I said, going to stand beside her.
Coming out of her thoughts, she looked at me and smiled. "I'm thinking which one can go here."
It's a plain wall, anything can go there, I thought, but understood how she was searching for something that would elevate the area and would force people to stop by and give it a second glance.
"You said you were not into business, then why are you still working with your father? I think you will do great in the field of art," I said. Her face instantly transformed and there was melancholy behind her eyes, an action that I observed happened every time her father was brought into the conversation.
"I'm not an artist," she said, then added, "not a good one."
"You'll never know if you don't try, Caroline."
"I can't."
"Why not?" I asked
"Because I like working with my father." She changed the topic with that statement and I didn't mind. There was no reason to press her about it.
James Marshall was nothing better than a piece of shit. It was a sin that this girl was associated with him. No matter how interested I was in her, there was this constant thought of her being the daughter of the one man I would not think twice before killing, always looming at the back of my head. Usually, I forced it away, but moments like these made me realize the reality. I should be maintaining my distance and yet I was searching for ways to be around her. How can the one person you should hate be the one whose presence you enjoyed the most?
"I'm leaving for London tonight," I told her.
"Is it for work?" she asked, putting her work away and giving me her undivided attention.
"It is."
The sadness that appeared on her face was something I could feel deep down in me as well. I almost offered her to come with me to London until I realized what I was doing. Work had always been my highest priority and never did I ever let anyone distract me from it. The mere thought that I even considered her accompanying me on a work trip was worrisome. I could be in quite some danger if I keep letting her inside my head.
"There is this charity event next week and I think your father is invited. Will you be attending it, Caroline?" I asked. There was a momentary surprise on her face before she nodded.
"I will be."
The rest of the day was spent in her company till I was pulled away by another call from my father. He wanted to have an urgent conversation with me before I left for London. I wondered what it could be considering he never wanted to talk about anything if it wasn't for his own good.
I dropped Caroline at her place, despite her constant protests of getting a cab. As much as I appreciated her gesture for taking the cab saving me the trouble of being anywhere near her father, I cannot let her go by herself.
There was definitely something up with my father and whatever it was, knowing him, it was not going to be anything good. I took a deep breath, preparing myself for the mental torture, and made my way to his house, only stopping by my penthouse for a cold shower.