The Billionaire who forgot me

3

Grayson’s POV

“Mr. Sutton, would you mind taking a picture with me?”

I looked up from my phone.

A young woman stood beside my table, smiling brightly.

She was holding her phone and looking at me like I was some kind of celebrity.

“I would, actually.”

Her smile faltered.

“Oh. I’m sorry. I just thought—”

“I’m having a private meeting.”

She glanced at the empty chair opposite me.

“My meeting partner just left,” I added.

Her cheeks turned red.

“Right. Sorry.”

She hurried away.

I returned my attention to my phone.

Honestly, I was getting tired of this.

Everywhere I went, people wanted something.

A photograph.

A business opportunity.

An invitation to dinner.

Or worse, a chance to become Mrs. Sutton.

I had learned a long time ago that most people weren’t interested in me.

They were interested in my money.

My name.

My connections.

And I had absolutely no patience for it.

My phone rang.

Tim.

“What?”

“Good afternoon to you too, sir.”

“Tim.”

He chuckled.

“How did the meeting go?”

“Terribly.”

“That bad?”

“The investors spent forty minutes discussing my personal life instead of the acquisition.”

Tim sighed.

“They’re concerned about your reputation.”

“My reputation is perfectly fine.”

“Your business reputation, yes.”

I leaned back in my chair.

“What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, sir.”

“Tim.”

He cleared his throat.

“Some of the investors believe you’re too focused on work. They prefer executives with stable family lives.”

I stared at the phone.

“I’m buying a company, Tim. I’m not applying to adopt their children.”

He laughed.

I wasn’t amused.

“Schedule another meeting for Thursday.”

“Understood.”

“And tell them I won’t be discussing my personal life again.”

“I’ll pass that along.”

I ended the call.

Ridiculous.

I had built Sutton Corp into one of the most successful companies in the country, yet apparently being unmarried was suddenly a business problem.

I stood, adjusted my jacket, and left the restaurant.

All I wanted was to return to my hotel suite and enjoy a few hours of silence.

Unfortunately, the moment I entered the hotel lobby, I remembered something else that had irritated me that morning.

Jennifer Monroe.

The hotel manager.

I almost laughed.

That woman had actually called me an asshole.

To my face.

Well, technically, she thought I couldn’t hear her.

But still.

Most people apologized the moment I raised my voice.

Jennifer Monroe had looked me directly in the eyes and told me that being wealthy didn’t give me the right to treat people badly.

Then she had walked away like she owned the building.

I couldn’t remember the last time someone spoke to me that way.

It was irritating.

And strangely amusing.

I wondered whether she had spent the entire day worrying that I would complain about her.

I hadn’t.

Although I probably should have.

She had entered my suite without permission.

Still, there had been something entertaining about watching her struggle to remain professional while clearly wanting to insult me.

I shook my head.

Why was I even thinking about her?

She was just a hotel manager.

Nothing more.

⸻

I stepped out of the elevator on the presidential floor.

My phone vibrated again.

Another message from Tim.

I was about to open it when I heard something.

A small sniffle.

Then another.

I stopped walking.

At first, I thought I was imagining it.

Then I heard a tiny voice.

“Mommy?”

I looked down the hallway.

A little girl stood near a decorative table, clutching a stuffed rabbit.

She couldn’t have been older than three or four.

Her dark curls were tied into two small ponytails, and she wore a yellow dress with white shoes.

Tears rolled down her cheeks.

I frowned.

What was a child doing alone on this floor?

“Mommy?” she called again.

Nobody answered.

I looked around.

The hallway was empty.

Wonderful.

Of all the things I needed today, a crying child wasn’t one of them.

I didn’t particularly like children.

They were loud, unpredictable, and usually sticky.

Whenever my business associates brought their children to events, I made sure to keep a reasonable distance.

But this little girl looked genuinely frightened.

I sighed and approached her.

“Hey.”

She looked up.

Her eyes were filled with tears.

Gray eyes.

Strangely familiar gray eyes.

“Are you lost?”

She nodded.

“Where are your parents?”

Her bottom lip trembled.

“I can’t find my mommy.”

I glanced toward the elevator.

“Did you come up here alone?”

She shook her head.

“I was looking for Mommy.”

“What’s your name?”

“Sophie.”

“Okay, Sophie. Where did you last see your mother?”

She sniffled.

“At Grandma’s.”

I frowned.

That wasn’t particularly helpful.

“Is your grandmother here?”

She nodded, then shook her head.

I resisted the urge to sigh.

Children really were confusing.

I crouched so we were at eye level.

“Listen, Sophie. Do you know your mother’s name?”

She nodded enthusiastically.

“Mommy.”

I stared at her.

“Right. Of course.”

She looked at me seriously.

“Everybody calls her Mommy.”

I almost smiled.

“I’m sure they do.”

She wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

“Can you help me find her?”

I hesitated.

I had absolutely no idea how to handle a lost child.

Normally, I would have called hotel security and continued with my day.

But Sophie was looking at me with so much hope that I couldn’t bring myself to walk away.

“Fine,” I said. “We’ll find your mother.”

She immediately held out her hand.

I looked at it.

Small.

Soft.

Completely trusting.

For some reason, I hesitated before taking it.

Then her little fingers wrapped around mine.

“Thank you, mister.”

“Grayson.”

She tilted her head.

“What?”

“My name is Grayson.”

She frowned thoughtfully.

“That’s a big name.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Is it?”

She nodded.

“Can I call you Mr. Boss Man?”

I blinked.

“Why?”

“Because you look like a boss.”

I glanced down at my suit.

“And what exactly does a boss look like?”

She pointed at my face.

“Like this.”

Then she scrunched up her eyebrows and pressed her lips together.

I stared at her.

Was she mocking me?

Apparently.

A laugh almost escaped my mouth.

Almost.

“Very funny.”

She smiled proudly.

“I know.”

⸻

We walked toward the elevator.

Sophie continued holding my hand.

“Your suit is shiny.”

“It’s not shiny.”

“Yes, it is.”

“It’s just expensive fabric.”

She looked up.

“How expensive?”

“Very.”

“More than my bunny?”

I glanced at the stuffed rabbit tucked under her arm.

“Probably.”

She gasped.

“That’s silly.”

“Why?”

“Bunny is special.”

I looked at her.

“And my suit isn’t?”

She shook her head.

“No. It’s just clothes.”

I actually smiled.

For the first time that day.

We reached the elevator, but before I could press the button, Sophie stopped.

“Mr. Boss Man?”

“Yes?”

“Why don’t you smile?”

I looked down at her.

“What makes you think I don’t smile?”

“Because your face is angry.”

“My face isn’t angry.”

She frowned and copied my expression again.

“See?”

I shook my head.

“You’re a very strange little girl.”

She giggled.

“Grandma says I’m funny.”

“Your grandmother is probably right.”

The elevator doors opened.

Before we could step inside, a housekeeper appeared from the service hallway.

She stopped when she saw us.

“Oh my goodness! Sophie!”

The little girl turned.

“Auntie Rose!”

The housekeeper hurried toward us.

“Sweetheart, what are you doing up here?”

Sophie held up her bunny.

“I was finding Mommy.”

The woman looked horrified.

Then she noticed me.

“Mr. Sutton!”

I nodded.

“Do you know this child?”

“Yes, sir. She’s—”

The woman stopped herself.

“She belongs to one of our staff members.”

“Then perhaps someone should inform her mother that her daughter is wandering around the hotel alone.”

“Of course, sir. I’m so sorry.”

She reached for Sophie.

But Sophie tightened her grip on my hand.

“No.”

The housekeeper blinked.

“Sophie, sweetheart—”

“Mr. Boss Man is helping me.”

I looked down at her.

For some ridiculous reason, I felt almost pleased.

“It’s fine,” I told the housekeeper. “Just contact her mother.”

The woman quickly pulled out her phone.

⸻

We waited near the elevator.

Sophie had stopped crying completely.

Instead, she was telling me a very detailed story about how her stuffed rabbit had once fallen into a bowl of soup.

I wasn’t entirely sure why I needed to know this.

But I listened anyway.

“And then Grandma washed Bunny,” she explained.

“Tragic.”

She nodded seriously.

“Very tragic.”

I shook my head.

Then I heard hurried footsteps.

“Sophie!”

A woman’s voice echoed through the hallway.

Sophie immediately turned.

“Mommy!”

A woman came running toward us.

Her face was pale.

Her hair had loosened from its neat bun, and she looked absolutely terrified.

She dropped to her knees and pulled Sophie into her arms.

“Oh my God, Sophie!”

She hugged the child tightly.

“Baby, where have you been? I’ve been looking everywhere!”

Sophie wrapped her arms around her mother’s neck.

“Sorry, Mommy.”

“You scared me!”

The woman’s voice broke.

She kissed Sophie’s forehead repeatedly.

“Please don’t ever wander away like that again.”

“I was looking for you.”

“I know, sweetheart. But you have to stay with Grandma until I come back, okay?”

Sophie nodded.

Then she pointed at me.

“Mr. Boss Man helped me.”

The woman froze.

Slowly, she raised her head.

And our eyes met.

Jennifer Monroe.

The hotel manager.

The woman who had called me an asshole that morning.

For some reason, all the color drained from her face.

She stared at me.

Then at Sophie.

Then back at me.

I frowned.

Why did she look so frightened?

“Miss Monroe?”

She swallowed.

“Mr. Sutton.”

I looked down at the little girl still clinging to her.

Then back at Jennifer.

Something about the resemblance between them suddenly became obvious.

The same dark curls.

The same delicate features.

Except for the eyes.

Sophie’s eyes were gray.

Just like mine.

I pushed the strange observation aside.

“You’re her mother?”

Jennifer tightened her arms around Sophie.

“Yes.”

I stared at her, genuinely surprised.

Jennifer Monroe had a daughter.

A three-year-old daughter.

And somehow, that was the last thing I had expected.

Sophie smiled at me over her mother’s shoulder.

“Mommy, Mr. Boss Man is my new friend!”

Jennifer didn’t smile.

Instead, she looked at me as though she had just seen a ghost.

And for reasons I couldn’t explain, I suddenly felt that there was something about Jennifer Monroe I didn’t know.