Baby For My Billionaire Rival (Billionaire Daddies)

5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Caroline

“ H e hates me.”

“Oh come on.”

“I’m telling you, Jude, he hates my guts ,” I say, pacing back and forth in the foyer of Chase’s house. “I can see it in his eyes.”

Jude looks away from the plot of wall she’s painting to narrow her eyes at me. “What do you see in his eyes, Caroline?”

I hold my hands out. “Daggers. Literal daggers.”

“Not literal.”

“Can you stop being a schoolteacher for one second and let me rant?”

Jude shrugs. “I just think you’re being negative.”

I huff. Ever since Jude and Chase entered into a relationship, she’s annoyingly cheerful and optimistic. “Chase!”

“Are you going to tell on me?” Jude scoffs.

“What?” Chase appears from the hallway, resting his hand on the wall. “I’m about to get on a call. What’s wrong?”

“Can you tell your girlfriend to validate my feelings instead of talking to me like she’s an Instagram page that advocates for toxic positivity?”

Jude gapes, her gaze flicking from me to Chase. “I am not toxically positive!”

Chase looks to the ceiling, eyes shut tight. “Caroline?”

“If you take her side in this, I swear to God, I’m going to be so mad.”

“I’m his girlfriend!” Jude cries out in defense.

I grip my fists at my side. “I know. I’ll be mad because I know he’s doing the right thing and that pisses me off.”

Jude smiles.

“What were you saying, Chase?” I ask my brother, perching my hands on my hips.

He looks down his nose at me. Oh no. He’s reading my mind in his brotherly way, I hate when he does this. “Is this about Jake Simmons?”

“Begone with you! Damn you all to hell and back!” I yelp and throw my hands in Chase’s direction like he’s a misbehaving dog.

Chase taps the wall and gives Jude a smile. One of those private smiles only people in love share. I’m so jealous I want to scream and at the same time I’m so happy for them. “Good luck,” he says before slinking off down the hallway.

Jude and I are quiet. She leans forward and begins working on the wall with her little paintbrush, painting specks of sand onto her mural. “You were saying? About Jake Simmons.”

I drop down onto an upside-down paint bucket. “Bite me.”

Over the past two months, I’ve tried as much as I can to avoid Jake Simmons. And I can tell he’s trying to do the same. We keep to ourselves in classes, taking the same seats every time, and avoid engaging in small talk or the same topics in class (unless Fig makes it impossible, which is something she is fond of doing).

And yet…

He haunts me. Each time his eyes land upon me, regardless if it’s an accident or on purpose, I feel him judging me. His loathe pours off him like a torrential storm.

If only I hadn’t treated him like he was the maintenance man. Then maybe he would have picked a different one of our classmates to be the object of his disdain for wealth because Lord knows I’m not the only one to flaunt it. I mean, look at Amy! Her last name is on the building for fuck’s sake!

But no. It’s me. Jake Simmons hates me .

I’m sick of it. One mistake and I’ve become some pariah to him. I’d be glad if he was merely apathetic to me. But he hates me.

And I, in turn, have had to learn how to hate him.

I don’t want to. Don’t want to put myself at odds with the only person in our year who actually works for a living. And I mean actually. All the rest of us sit behind computers or take meetings. Jake is an all-American type. Works on his family’s farm, drives a pickup truck, and sweats out of necessity, not for fun like these CrossFit bros.

Unlike the rest of us, he’s confident enough in himself to just sit on his wealth and be himself. Not trying to show off, except for that one day he came dressed in a polo and slacks and looked so uncomfortable he might be forced to tear his own skin off.

“I respect him, Jude,” I say.

“I know you do, you don’t have to defend yourself to me,” she says, dabbing her brush into a little glop of gold on her palette.

I shake my head. “No, it’s not about the handyman thing, it’s about him as a person. Like he showed up and knew he’d be different and just said fuck it. I’m jealous.”

“Don’t be jealous of him.”

“Well, I am. I am jealous.” I sigh. “But more than that, I respect him. And I know he doesn’t respect me. And I don’t think he ever will.” He doesn’t like me, doesn’t like my family’s business, doesn’t even like my nails. I’ve seen him glare at me while I’m drumming my fingers on my desk.

It’s the fact I’ll never earn his respect that hurts the most. That’s what makes me angry.

Jude glares at me playfully. “Don’t you think you’re obsessing a bit over this?”

“Obsessing? Me? Noo...”

My best friend laughs. “Are you sure about that?”

“Jude, what are you getting at?”

She wipes off her hands and gets to her feet with a hefty sigh. “Well, if it bothers you so much that he’s bothered by you, then you ought to just say ‘fuck it’ and not give a fuck what he thinks. You can’t gain the respect of people committed to misunderstanding you.”

I glower. “I know you’re right.”

“But you’re going to keep obsessing, aren’t you?”

“It’s not obsessing!” I grab my phone. “I’m done talking about this.”

Jude giggles. Nothing fazes her these days. “Fine, I’m going to get a snack. Want anything from the kitchen?”

I give her a pouty face.

“Oh, the silent treatment, huh? No wonder Jake Simmons thinks you’re a spoiled –”

“Jude!”

My friend snickers and saunters out of the foyer.

I tap around my phone errantly, trying to distract my boiling brain with memes and TikTok and shopping. An email comes through from Fig which I eagerly tap on. “Finally…” I mutter. Fig told us we’d be getting an email this weekend about our partner assignments for our first big project of the semester. We’ll have to make a business plan culminating in a pitch at the end of the semester.

Class,

Partners are as follows. Projects start next cycle. If you have a problem, take it up with your therapist, not me.

Fig

I scan the list of names, head buzzing with excitement. Amy and I asked Fig if we could team up to work on our idea for a biodegradable cosmetic packing component. Fig merely said, “We’ll see.”

However, that “We’ll see” is quickly dashed when I see Amy is paired up with Schwartz who always sits in the first row and I’m….

No.

There has to be some mistake.

I jump to my feet and scream.

Chase and Jude both come running. “What is it? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

I hold my phone out toward them. “Jake Simmons is my fucking partner!”