A Billionaire Next Door

Ch. 1 - Picture Perfect Morning

KAILYN

The sharp beeping of my alarm clock wakes me. This morning should have felt like any other, but something in the air made it lighter. Calmer. Almost hopeful. The sun casts its rays on me, discomforting me and forcing me out of bed. You would think I would've gotten used to it by now, but I haven't. I twist and turn in my bed, and then finally I get up and dress in my pink sports bra, nude biker shorts, and black workout shoes with my hair packed up in a ponytail for my morning run.

I run around Pinewood Estate until my watch buzzes, notifying me that I've hit my morning goal. The road curves slightly, and the large homes of my neighborhood start to appear from the morning haze. Each one sits back from the street like a preening debutante, eager to be admired but keeping a careful distance. I know each property by heart: the Hendersons with their many lawn ornaments, the Wilsons with their always under-construction pool house, and then-there it is-the sweeping curve of grey stone that marks Miles Howard's driveway.

Miles Howard. Billionaire. New York's Most Eligible Bachelor.And, lucky me, my untouchable neighbour. He's walking out of his house to a black Audi PB18 e-Tron, with his phone like a prisoner in his hands, his eyes meet mine, only for a second before they return to his screen. He has always intrigued me, always so mysterious and puzzling, and something about that excites me.

I'm back in the apartment, and the scent of a familiar vanilla fills my nostrils. "Alexa, play Kill Bill by SZA." "Playing Kill Bill by SZA." she responds while I make my way into the bathroom. Hot water droplets flow down my body, accompanied by the soft net of my soapy loofah. Beep... Beep... Beep... The sound of my phone ringing fills my ears as the music stops, and the screen lights up with Rose Ivanov's contact filling it. "Oh, it's very early. I wonder what she's calling about," I thought. Rose Ivanov, married to Damon Ivanov, a man with so much power, he makes the rest of us seem like green pants in the food chain-no matter how high up you are, and I am HIGH. I slide my fingers in favour of answering the phone call

"Hi Kaitlyn, I loved yesterday's event so much. Honestly, I was a little skeptical about how it would go, but you showed me that my investment in you was worthwhile. Everyone last night wanted to know where I got my dres from." I could feel her smile through the screen that divides us.

"Good morning, Rose, I'm so happy you liked it. It's always a pleasure hearing a good review from a client personally."

"Thank you, Kaitlyn. I'll stay in touch."

"Goodbye!"

I walk into my walk-in closet designed like a boutique with soft blush walls, gold hardware, and crystal chandeliers that spill light across racks. I pull out a wine-red blouse and black work pants which hug my body in the right places, pairing them with my black Louboutin heels and a black Louis Vuitton handbag. I apply minimal makeup, focusing mainly on my lips and eyes.

As I work on my laptop, I hear a knock on the glass door of my office. "Come in." I announce with my eyes still on my laptop. I look up as the doors open

Miss Miller, Head of Sales, stepped in. Her feet tremble as she walks up to me.

"Well? What do you have for me?" I ask her

"I'm afraid it's bad news", she says back in dismay.

"Spit it out!" I exclaim, getting antsy.

She hands me a brown envelope labelled IMPORTANT. I peel open the envelope, revealing the files in it. Reading them, I feel a burst of worry about the company, about everything I've built crashing down. "Why didn't I get a notice of the sales going down? Why wasn't I informed?" I ask calmly, not letting the worry show up on my face, and I crack my knuckles, trying to stop a stream of tears from falling from my face. "We only just noticed the significant drop this morning," She says as she bows her head, not maintaining eye contact. "Then why do you have this job if you don't report something as significant as this?" I ask with my voice thick and my tone leaving no room for negotiation. "You're dismissed." My heartbeat becomes more rushed as I can hear them loudly. I fidget with my necklace as I try to calm myself down from having a panic attack.

I pick up my phone, head to my favourite, and as I dial my best friend's number, she picks up on the third ring.

"Kaitlyn, Hiii," She says bubbly

"..."

"Kaitlyn, are you okay? Are you fine?" Concern paints her voice

"No, Ari, I'm not. Everything's falling apart." Tears roll down my face as my voice cracks up

"What happened?" She asks in a panic

"My sales are dropping drastically, and I have no idea why."

"I may have seen a reason why on TikTok, I didn't send it to you cause I thought it was just another petty rise to fame scheme. I'll send it right now."

"Ping!" The sound echoes through the room, and I open it. Mine and Aria's message fills the screen, and I open the video file she sent. A text appears on the screen: "The Truth About Kaitlyn Rhodes." I listen to what she has to say, finding what she has to say wrong and confusing.

"How could anyone even believe that? None of what she's saying is true. Arghh!" I type into our chat

"I have no idea, and over 24million views and 14million likes. It's honestly crazy."How about we calm down and then look for ways we can solve this, but firstly, we have to get your mind off it." She replies.

Ch. 2 - Watching From Afar

MILES

Every morning starts the same. Coffee. Silence. I scroll through the financial section news on my iPad while the city outside drowns in its own noise. I scan headlines, stocks, mergers-the usual endless cycle of people rising, people falling.

Then one name stands out among the endless chatter.

Kaitlyn Rhodes.

I may not know her personally, but I do know her enough to know she built her company from scratch. I go through the sheets of paper, and it reveals that she might just be added to the pile of people who may be falling. Her story made me admire her; it may be another cliché grass-to-grace story, but something about a woman who didn't sleep her way to the top and doesn't have a trust fund to fall back on intrigues me. A smile tugs on my lip, "Let's see how long you'll last, Kaitlyn Rhodes." I say in hushed tones.

I file her name away for later, a problem and a puzzle. Right now, I have another battle to fight-my board.

Work today had me clenching my teeth after the meeting I had with the board of directors, and my parents, who rarely came for things like this, were in attendance. The meeting reeked of an obvious setup by my parents. They all concluded that the company is in better hands with a family man than with a bachelor. I disagree, but I'll let them keep their beliefs in hopes I can use it to my advantage.

By nightfall, I let the driver know I have a meetup with some friends at Moonlight Club. The bright lights and loud bass welcome me as I step in. I'm seen by a few people, whose whispers do very little to move me. The manager, who has claimed a position by my side, keeps babbling on about how he hopes to expand the club. His babbles add to the pent-up frustration I kept in from the board meeting. I crack my knuckles before they find their way to his face; instead, I tune him out. I make my way through a dozen people who move in sync with the music, the air filled with perfume, sweat, and alcohol, which has never been my favourite smell. I let the noise swallow me, step by step, until...

A familiar silhouette catches my eye.

Green dress. Dark hair. A smile way too cheerful for someone whose company is on the edge of ruin.

Kaitlyn Rhodes.

Dancing with no care for the world around her. As I pass by her side, I'm hit by the sweet smell of raspberries, which makes me want to join her, but I shouldn't, I don't. My lips curve upward in amusement at how free her body moves.

I make my way to my friends, and to my advantage, my seat has a front row view of her. Here, I see everything. The soft sway of her hips when the beat drops. The way her arms rise.

She looks untouchable, just like she did this morning.

But no one is untouchable. At least not forever.

Then he appears. Some tacky bastard in a gold chain and a suit that shines more than it should. He slides in beside her, too close, too loud, leaning with that practiced smirk that reeks of desperation. His hand grazes her arm as he whispers something in her ear. She laughs, the kind of laugh people give when they'd rather be anywhere else. He doesn't notice instead he stretches a hand forward; I suppose he's asking her to dance. They move with the music, totally out of sync on his part. I take it he's had too much to drink.

His hands travel where they're not supposed to, from the small of her back to her lower back, almost touching her hips. She tries to brush him off, but he forcefully removes her hands, keeping them in a tight grip. My legs move before my head has the chance to think of it, heading in the direction of her. I've never acted on impulse before, and I don't like how unexpected and uncalculated this feels

I'm there before his hands touch somewhere he's going to regret. "She's not interested." I announce. His face turns to meet mine, white and ghost-like when he sees I'm not some drunk rival on the dancefloor. The alcohol must've clouded his eyesight and his brain, cause he follows with "Who are you?". "Try asking again when you're sober." I reply, ripping Kaitlyn's hand off his grip. She looks at me for far too long, which makes the club seem quiet and smaller. The smile she had on her face earlier is gone and now replaced with a scowl which paints her face.. "I didn't order a wannabe Batman.", she snaps her voice low, Translation: I can take care of myself. I should've known she would be this stubborn. "A simple thank you would have sufficed." I say with an eyeroll. As we leave the scene, the man spills on some bullshit I have no intention of making sense of it.

She continues whining as we're walking to the car, then she finally asks where I'm taking her, and I ignore her. I find her small build in front of me, and she asks again, this time firmer, which implies she thinks I didn't hear her the first time. "I'm dropping you off." I reply, matching her tone. "Well, I don't think so I can take care of myself, and I came here with a friend." She bites back. "I don't see that friend, and he/she has not done the best job taking care of you." I conclude, and she gets into the back seat of the car. She punches a number into a phone, showing her upset with me. It goes straight to voicemail, she fixes her head onto the side window, silent on the ride to her house, minus a few mutters under her breath.

Ch. 3 - First Crack

KAITLYN

A constant ringing fills my head, and the sun's rays act against my eyes. I try to steady myself as I get off the bed in search of something to turn it all off. My hands grab a pack of aspirin, removing two pieces from it. As the headache leaves, glimpses of last night come crashing in, and I notice that I'm still wearing my dress from last night, but it looks wrinkled now. Eight missed calls from Ari, and I remember that I left her last night at the club; she must've been worried sick about me. "Ari, I'm so sorry for not telling you when I was leaving." I say as she picks up the call, leaving no room for confrontation. "Yeah, right. I saw you getting in the car with Miles Howard. One night stand?" She asks in a quieter tone than her usual squeaky one, like she's saying a secret. "No! You know it's not like that, and before you say something like 'It's Miles, he could've changed you'. No, he couldn't, and he didn't." I reply with a smile in my tone, "I barely even remember what happened last night." "So, Chanel suit today? That screams 'I need to crush men under my heels.'" She says after I tell her about my meeting. "Exactly." "Including Miles Howard." I reply, the events of last night filling my head. "Oh my god, you like him." She squeals."Goodbye, Ari.". I snap at her and end the call. I already have enough going on at work, and I hope she understands I don't have time for back-and-forth. I get dressed in head-to-toe Chanel for a meeting I have with potential investors, before I leave, I take a good look at myself and straighten up. Doubt has never helped anyone.

I walk into the conference room with my head held high, lips red, black shades on, and my assistant three steps behind me. I scan the room and I see a lot of familiar faces and one other that stands out way too much. It's him. I take off my glasses to be sure I'm not seeing things, and it is him. Miles Howard.

"What are you doing here?" I ask with my eyes glaring at him.

"Good morning to you too, Miss Rhodes." He replies with his lips curving upwards. It's the first time seen him smile. Ever. I guess taunting me brings him joy.

"Great! You too know each other." My investor announces. I wouldn't say we know each other; we only just met yesterday, but let's leave it there.

The meeting becomes an unending chess match; it rattles me, my hands grip my pen tighter by the second, making my knuckles as white as snow. There's nothing I hate more than when a man thinks just because he's speaking, it means I should be silent. Welcome to the 21st century, Miles. To every question, I have an answer for it, and at some point, my answers got him thinking. "Miss Rhodes, these numbers feel unrealistic." The investor says. "Unrealistic is what men call it when a woman refuses to think small." I reply. "Or when someone refuses to think rationally." Miles adds. "Rationality never built empires. Risk did." I explain, locking eyes with him.

The meeting concludes, lights dim slightly as the projector hums to life. The investors shift in their seats - murmurs, coughs, glances at each other. My assistant drops her pen or tries to shut the laptop too late.

A video starts playing.

It's THE video, the same grainy clip Ari showed me two nights ago, the whispers, the scandal, which claims that my designs were stolen from some girl named Ruth, who I've never heard of by the way, until she made the video

As the video blacks out, a voice fills the conference room, "We're sorry, Miss Rhodes, but I don't think this is the direction we're trying to move to." At least he sounds somewhat disappointed. I turn in the direction of "Batman." and he doesn't have a smile on his face, but instead, he does not react; he just looks calculating, thinking about his next move as he looks at me.

MILES

Kaitlyn and I make eye contact for a few more seconds. She's not intimidated, but instead she leans into the fire, trying to find out what's going on in my head, and I add that to the growing list of things I admire about her. The entire room is waiting for her to shrink, to bite her lips, to fumble. She doesn't. She straightens her back, has her head held back up, and she gestures to her assistant to gather her files. Thanking the room for their time.

As she intends to put on her glasses, I see something in her eyes, the fear that she so desperately hides away from the world. The sharp inhale she tries to hide as composure. She's not unbreakable. No one is. She just might take longer to break. I leave moments after, ignoring the chatter that fills the room, most of it gossip. All I think about is her. Kaitlyn. The woman the whole city is talking about. The woman who'd rather fall than admit that she needs saving. She does need saving, and when she does realize that, I'm going to be the only one who can give it to her.

When I'm back in my office, I call Liam and ask him for a background check on Kaitlyn. I'll need to know if she's a criminal before I get married to her. She's not going to agree at first, and I'm aware, but what's a game without the chase at first? She's going to be the one begging when I'm done with her.