Tom Billionaire Ch. 04

"Jonathan, this isn't that bad," Cassandra stated in a soothing tone.

"Not that bad? They know I'm back!"

She shook her head. "They have no photos of you. No eyewitnesses. All they have is video of the jet and speculation. This is my fault. I never used the jet for my own use while you were gone, so everybody was put on alert when I flew out a few days ago. If you don't want people to know you've returned, we can still maintain the secrecy. Your staff is loyal. I've made sure of that."

I exhaled slowly, turning to look out the window. My right hand was balled into a fist, and I held it tight against my lower jaw as I squinted against the morning light.

"Jonathan, you knew people would find out eventually," Cassandra stated. "Being in the public eye is a part of who you are."

"It's a part I don't want. Not right now. When everything was fine with me and Taylor, I could handle the stalkerazzi. But they're a distraction getting in the way of what I want."

"What do you want?"

I glanced back over at my assistant, rolling my eyes at her before shaking my head and walking back. Glumly, I plopped back down on the couch next to her and bent forward until my forehead was resting against her shoulder. She caught her breath and then patted the back of my head. "Jonathan?" she asked softly.

"I want my old life back. I want things to be the way they used to be."

"You know that can't happen. That period of your life is over."

She was right. There had been two periods in my life, divided quite dramatically by a single event on a Friday five years ago: The Pre-inheritance period, and Post. Before inheriting billions of dollars, along with an investment company and all its trappings, I was just another guy in Manhattan working to make it big. My life was less luxurious, but it was certainly simpler. That life was gone now, never to return. And I'd moved on.

The second period of my life was as a Billionaire. But despite all the money, power, and fame, I'd tried to keep myself grounded. I still went to work most days, although the transactions I worked on tended to have a few extra zeroes attached to the end. I loved my wife. I treated my employees with respect. And I strove to never let my position go to my head.

I'd always cared about the people I was with. I wasn't "better" than them. I just lucked into a pile of cash by a random, undeserved act of being born to the right man. And so I never exerted myself over them. I always did my best to be compassionate and considerate. They were my equals. And I would never just "use" them. I'd believed in people.

Look what it got me. A supposedly "trusted" business partner stabbed me in the back and absconded with over four *billion* dollars. My son DIED. My wife lost her mind and left me. In the fallout, my girlfriend couldn't stand being on the sinking ship, and she got off by moving out and taking our daughter with her.

And on top of all that, every newsrag in town, in print, online, and over the airwaves wanted to chat about how the life of New York's Golden Boy had gone completely in the shitter.

Sitting up straight, I waved my hand at the TV, which was now paused at the end of the Celebrity Sightings segment. "Haven't I suffered enough already? All I really want is my family back. Why don't they just leave me alone? Why can't I just be a normal guy trying to put his life back together?"

Cassandra pursed her lips, looking apologetic. "You're Jonathan Kwong. The minute you inherited billions, you ceased to be a normal guy. Jonathan Kwong can't live a normal life. I'm sorry, but it's true. Nicole Gellar found that out, remember?"

I cringed and put my head back down against Cassandra's shoulder, this time sliding a little lower until I was against her upper chest. She was right. Jonathan Kwong was a celebrity. Cameras would follow him everywhere, whether he liked it or not. Nicole said it best: 'Now I'm the alien.'

"What if I don't want to be Jonathan Kwong anymore?"

Cassandra rubbed my back. "This isn't a choice. You ARE Jonathan Kwong."

"But I don't want to be anymore. And for three months, I _wasn't_. I was Tomas Eriksen, and even if I wasn't totally at peace with myself, at least I didn't have to deal with this shit." I waved at the paused TV once again.

"Being you isn't something you can just give up forever," Cassandra cautioned. "Jonathan Kwong still has a family. Jonathan Kwong has responsibilities. Jonathan Kwong has a business, with hundreds of people whose livelihoods depend on him, mistakes and all."

I sat up again and shook my head. "Jonathan Kwong is just a name. Jonathan Kwong Enterprises is just a company. Let the execs run JKE. They've been doing alright without me for three months, haven't they? We're focused on off-shore deals, right? And what, like I need more money? We recovered most of what Sharpley stole. What I NEED is my family."

Cassandra cocked her head to the side, evaluating what I was saying. I could see the calculations running behind her eyes, but she remained silent.

So I just kept going. "Jonathan Kwong has media responsibilities, his every move and romantic entanglement dissected to pieces. I've lost more than one girlfriend to that high profile, Nicole Gellar only the first among them. You're right, with the inheritance came public fame and scrutiny. And when my world started collapsing around me, that public wouldn't let me just have my privacy."

"What are you suggesting?"

"I don't want to be Jonathan Kwong anymore. Tom Eriksen didn't have these problems. Tom Eriksen was just a happy-go-lucky playboy looking for his next score with nubile young girls on holiday. Now I'm not planning to disappear off to some party beach to screw myself into oblivion again, but I think for right now, it would be best if 'Jonathan Kwong' stayed missing."

"You're going to change your identity?"

"Already did. Got the passport and paperwork and everything, remember? What's my alternative: hide in the mansion and don't come out until the coast is clear?"

"So you're moving out?"

I shrugged. "As long as they get paid, I don't think any of the staff minds not having anyone to take care of. The mansion will run fine without us."

"Us?" Cassandra's eyes lit up.

I cocked my head, reaching my hand out to rest on my assistant's leg. I looked her straight in the eye, and said with heartfelt feeling, "I already promised I wouldn't leave you again."

The smile that flashed onto Cassandra's face was so radiant it brightened the room. Instantly I felt really good about this plan, and I knew that everything would turn out alright.

But then the smile disappeared and a haunted look crossed the regal blonde's face.

"What?" I queried in confusion.

Cassandra's jaw quivered a moment, her eyes tense. "I can't go with you."

"What are you talking about?"

She blinked twice, then pinched her lips and shook her head sadly. "If I go with you, you'll get caught for sure. You're unrecognizable as Jonathan Kwong right now. With the blonde-streaked hair and the goatee, even I don't recognize you at first sight. But the minute someone sees me by your side, the jig will be up. I'm too visible at this point. The paparazzi have been following me around ever since your disappearance, believing that I'll lead them to you."

"No you won't," I insisted. "Maybe if you dyed your hair and we changed your makeup we could-"

Cassandra shook her head and cut me off. "It's better this way. If I disappear too, it'll stir up the pot even more. Think about it, if I go about my normal routine, going to the office and showing up in public without you, everyone will assume you're still somewhere out there in the world, living your newly single life."

"But I want you WITH me!"

She shook her head again, and I knew that whenever my assistant took a stand on something, she was more stubborn than me. "This gives you time to collect yourself. Visit your mum. Maybe even Ashlyn. There are a million snitches in Malibu, but eventually, you can go to Taylor. And by the time you're ready for that, maintaining your identity won't be an issue anymore."

"Cassandra..."

"You know I'm right."

"You won't come with me?" I asked forlornly.

Cassandra shook her head.

"But I love you," I whimpered. "I need you by my side."

She reached forward, momentarily caressing my cheek. But then pulling her hand away, Cassandra took a deep breath and stated evenly, "I belong to Jonathan Kwong. When you're ready to be him again, I'll still be here."

****

*-- MANHATTAN, NEW YORK --*

We spent the rest of the day planning my move. The first order of business was finding me a place to stay. The logical solution was to have one of my shell companies do a corporate rental on a nice apartment in the city.

Cassandra herself couldn't call her contacts without risking my exposure, although she helped out in the planning. Someone would have been tipped off if Cassandra Cooper started calling around to make apartment inquiries on behalf of Jonathan Kwong. But Evania Koteas calling to lease an apartment for Tomas Eriksen? No one was the wiser, and Evania herself was thrilled to once again be taking operational control of my affairs.

By the afternoon, contracts were scanned and signed back and forth. The next morning, I said my goodbyes to the staff and to my dear assistant. And then Evania, Vivienne, and I headed out in a non-descript Towncar, just a standard 5-passenger and not even a limousine.

Two hours later, I reclined in the apartment building lobby with Vivienne, trying to be casual. This was my first test at walking around town since first disappearing, and I wondered if anyone would recognize me as the famous billionaire.

No one did. Evania took care of all the paperwork with the management office on arrival, picking up the keys. And building security didn't even glance at me while we waited. With Vivienne sitting beside me, her short skirt riding high up her thighs, they were too busy checking out my girlfriend's killer body and listening to her adorable French accent as she chatted with me.

Eventually, we took the elevator up to the eighth floor, walked down the short hallway to apartment 815, and entered into what was to be my home for the foreseeable future.

"I am sorry, sir. This was the best I could do." Evania bowed her head in shame as we looked around the furnished apartment on the Upper West Side. The building wasn't actually on Central Park West, but we still had a view of the park (if you looked really hard between the two towers blocking the way). The appointments were not ostentatious, but were modern and comfortable. And while it certainly wasn't a penthouse, it was still a very high-end corner unit that put my old pre-Billionaire apartment to shame.

"It's perfect," I reassured my assistant. "It's everything we really need. Two bedrooms. Two bath. Granite countertops with stainless appliances. Red oak floors. Luxurious furniture. This is really nice."

"But I know you are used to more... spacious... accommodations." Actually, this *was* pretty spacious by Upper West Side standards. But of course it was still much smaller than a typical billionaire's house.

"Space is not an issue for me right now. It's a helluva lot bigger than the yacht, for sure. Tell me this: was your apartment in Greece nearly this nice?" And then I turned to Vivienne, who was holding onto my arm, and added, "Or yours, my dear?"

Both girls blushed and looked around with fresh eyes. Almost bashfully, they both shook their heads 'no'.

"But this is still not the kind of place you are used to, sir," Evania complained. "Someone of your status deserves nicer."

"Well Tom Eriksen, here in the U.S., doesn't want that status, remember? Besides, it's not like you had a lot of options once I told you I HAD to be in this building."

"Why *did* it have to be this building?" Vivienne asked. "I'm sure you could have found an even better apartment and still kept... what did you call it? A 'low profile'."

I patted my girlfriend's arm, thinking of the little surprise I had for a couple of old friends. Smiling enigmatically, I only said, "You'll find out tonight."

****

A moving van brought over our personal effects. At my direction, Evania supervised the move and tipped the moving guys on their way out. From the way they'd been ogling my ladies, I was sure they'd have been much happier getting phone numbers instead.

The girls and I exhausted the remaining morning hours just unpacking and arranging things around our new apartment. I didn't know how long I would be staying here, but I wanted to feel comfortable while doing so. This wasn't just another hotel room to occupy for a few days. This was to be Tom Eriksen's _home_.

We then spent the afternoon going out and exploring Manhattan. I was still a little self-conscious about being recognized. Even though we were in a neighborhood I had not frequented in my previous life, my face had still been plastered all over tabloids and the TV for many years.

But no one recognized me. Sure, people would look my way, but they were usually distracted by the gorgeous women by my side. I was able to sit down for an hour in full view of the public, eating my lunch, and no one was the wiser. And I took both girls, neither of whom had ever been to New York City before, around on an impromptu sightseeing tour.

We went through Central Park, of course. But then we grabbed a cab and went downtown to see the Statue of Liberty, Ground Zero, and Wall Street. We snapped a hundred photos like thousands of other tourists, and I finally began to realize that nobody knew who I really was.

Around 6pm we returned to the apartment building. And after taking the elevator to a floor that was NOT ours, the girls finally found out why I wanted to live here.

The door to apartment 512 swung open, and an adorably cute young blonde stood there with her jaw on the floor. She was still dressed from work, in a stylish black pantsuit with an electric magenta blouse underneath that showed off her feminine curves and full bust. Her gaping mouth couldn't detract from her youthful, pretty face. And those emerald green eyes were wide and intent as she looked upon me.

"Cassandra told me, but I didn't really believe her," Kaitlyn Reynolds gasped in surprise.

"Wow, it really IS you," Jeff Lee chimed in, standing beside his girlfriend. The guy who was my closest thing to a male best friend stepped forward and offered his hand. "I like the new look."

"Thanks," I replied while accepting Jeff's handshake.

"Mmm... Banana Republic?" he asked, flipping the collar of my polo shirt. "I saw this at the Broadway store by 87th the other day."

"Uh, maybe," I shrugged. My wardrobe had gotten progressively more elaborate over the past few years; it was a curse of being around so many fashion models. But the last thing I wanted now were flashy clothes, so shopping for less obvious attire had also been part of my recent move.

I then turned to Kaitlyn, but rather than shake my hand, she stepped onto her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around my neck in a warm hug. "Hey, kitten," I murmured softly, hugging her in return.

"Hey yourself, stranger," the 23-year-old blonde replied, patting my back. She squeezed me one more time before backing away and turning to my side. "And you must be Vivienne."

My new girlfriend, who had been standing beside me rather nervously, shook hands lightly.

But Kaitlyn then took things a step further, holding the French girl by her shoulders and giving her two quick pecks, one to each cheek. Vivienne giggled and immediately relaxed. "Very good," she complimented.

Meanwhile, Evania was shaking hands with Jeff. And after another minute or so, all the introductions were complete.

"Please, come in," Kaitlyn invited. "I'll apologize for the mess. We weren't expecting company tonight. Not everyone can afford to have maids on staff." That last crack, with a sharp teasing look, was directed at me.

I chuckled and waved her off. "No more maids for me. Not now, at least." We then followed the younger couple into the living room. Kaitlyn grabbed a shirt that was lying on top of the armrest and started folding it. Jeff picked up a stack of papers off the coffee table, and then he stood up and asked if anyone wanted a drink. We happily accepted, just sodas and water.

Once everyone got settled, Jeff started the real conversation by asking, "So what brings the famous Jonathan Kwong to our humble home?"

I shook my head, swallowing my bit of soda and setting the glass down onto the coaster. "Jonathan Kwong isn't back in New York at all. My name is Tom Eriksen."

Kaitlyn gave me a quizzical look, but Jeff just looked thoughtful, working that bit around in his head.

I looked at them pointedly and asked, "How much did Cassandra tell you?"

The blonde looked at her boyfriend before answering, "Not much, actually. She just said that you were back in town and wanted to visit." Kaitlyn then gestured at the two women seated on either side of me. "She also mentioned you were bringing your new girlfriend and assistant. Sounds like you've had a pretty eventful three months."

I nodded. "Something like that."

"So where WERE you?"

"Europe. The Mediterranean mostly."

"Ooh," Jeff said excitedly. "Hit any great beach towns?"

I chuckled. "I did nothing BUT beach towns: Naoussa, Ibiza, Mykonos."

"Got any recommendations for us? Kaitlyn and I were thinking to take a trip to-"

"Jeff!" Kaitlyn interrupted. "Now is not the time."

Jeff just shrugged. I shot him a head nod and shrugged myself, saying, "No biggie. I'll give you lots of tips later. I'm hoping we'll have plenty of opportunities to catch up and swap stories."

Kaitlyn arched an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"

I smiled and pointed at the ceiling. "I just moved in upstairs."

Kaitlyn's eyes goggled. "Upstairs???"

"Well, not _directly_ upstairs," I clarified. "Three floors up and over in... *that* corner." I pointed southeast.

"What about that big-ass house I built you?" Jeff frowned.

"Oh, it's still there. But that's John Kwong's house. And like I said, my name is Tom Eriksen."

Kaitlyn furrowed her eyebrows, giving me that quizzical look again. "I don't understand."

I sighed and patted Vivienne's knee with my left hand. She responded by squeezing my arm a little tighter. I then looked back up at Jeff and Kaitlyn, saying, "John Kwong's life is a mess right now. I'm not ready to resume that just yet. And right now, I could really use some friends."

****

Consciousness seeped into my brain slowly, and through my still-closed eyelids I could see the red haze of morning light. And as various nerve endings awoke along my body, I felt a familiar sensation.

Someone was sucking on my dick.

Before the sandy crust would allow my eyelids to open, I smiled and raised a hand to touch Taylor's head. And under my fingers, I felt the silky smoothness of her fine dark hair as it ran past her scalp and longer toward her shoulders.

Wait, Taylor had short hair. Cassandra?

The morning sunlight blinded me for a few moments as I cracked my eyelids open, but eventually I was able to focus on the head currently bobbing up and down in my lap. The hair was indeed a very dark brown, nearly black. But it was a shade lighter than Taylor's and indeed much longer. The woman rolled her dark brown eyes up to me, and I recognized Evania's smiling face stretched wide by my cock in her mouth.

My lovely valet pulled back until just my mushroom head was in her mouth. She jacked me with her right hand in that corkscrewing motion she knew I loved so much. And I was so enraptured by watching the Greek girl blowing me that I didn't realize we weren't alone until Vivienne started giggling beside me.

I half-crawled away from the girls in surprise, my cock popping free of Evania's mouth. I looked around the unfamiliar room, wondering where the hell I was for just a second. But then full consciousness returned, and I remembered. This was my new apartment, three floors above Jeff and Kaitlyn. This was my new girlfriend and new assistant: Vivienne and Evania.