The Teacher's Billionaire

turning back now
. Even as she sat there, security personnel were probably alerting Warren of her arrival.
    Callie gripped the steering wheel tightly and followed the gravel driveway. Manicured lawns stretched out all around her and in the distance she could hear the crash of waves. When the driveway curved, Cliff House came into view for the first time. Unlike many of the other mansions, Cliff House was situated so that it couldn’t be seen from the road and since it was still used as a part-time residence, the public couldn’t tour it like many of its counterparts. As a result few people had ever seen the mansion. Naturally, photos appeared in magazines from time to time but none did the building justice. After turning off her car, Callie sat gazing at the palatial structure before her. Built in 1895 out of light colored granite, the mansion had been designed to resemble Alexander Palace in Russia, or that was what the website had told her.
    What would someone who lived in a place like this want with her, she wondered nervously chewing her bottom lip? All the way down, she’d tried not to think about the differences, which separated her from her father. But now seated outside Cliff House in her four year old Ford Focus, it was impossible not to think about them. He was a billionaire. A United States Senator. Perhaps even the next President of the United States. She was an elementary school teacher. What could they have in common? Other than some shared DNA what could she have in common with her half-brother and sister? If they were anything like Dylan Talbot, Callie’s half-siblings and she were worlds apart.
    Callie hadn’t seen or heard from Dylan since his last visit to her apartment when she’d finally agreed to this meeting. Not that she expected to. He passed along her father’s message. With that job complete he had no other reason to seek her out. Still part of her had hoped to hear from him again even if only to confirm her visit for the weekend. But no such call ever came. Instead she’d received a phone call from his executive assistant confirming what time she should arrive.
    Would he be here this weekend? It wasn’t like he had a reason to be around. They weren’t related in anyway. She didn’t even think Warren’s other children would be here this weekend. The way the executive assistant spoke only Warren and Elizabeth Sherbrooke would be present.
    Did Jake and Sara Sherbrooke even know that she existed, she couldn’t help but wonder? Her father might have decided not to tell them yet. But if he had, how had they responded to the news? Dylan never once mentioned Warren’s children or his wife Elizabeth. If the tables were reversed how would she feel about her father having a child appear out of nowhere? How did his wife feel about the situation? Many women wouldn’t appreciate their husband’s bastard child showing up on their front doorstep even if that child had been born before they’d meet.
    The unasked questions brought Callie to a halt as she followed the walkway up toward the main entrance. She’d been so overwhelmed by her own emotions toward her mother and the situation that she hadn’t once stopped to consider the other people involved. At the very least she should have asked Dylan how the others felt. No matter how caring and understanding a person was it had to be difficult to learn your husband had another child floating around.
    Why didn’t you think of this sooner?
Callie forced herself to move again. The closer she got to the front entrance the more apparent it became that her visit was a mistake.
    Too late, you’re here now.
    Before she could even search for a doorbell, the massive front door swung open. A rail thin man dressed in a black suit, who didn’t look strong enough to even open the door, took several steps toward her.
    “Miss Taylor, please come in.” Much like his appearance, the older man’s voice was professional but devoid of any character.
    Uncertain how to respond, Callie searched her brain for something to say. “I’m a little late. Traffic was horrible through Providence.”
    Brilliant just brilliant
, Callie thought, immediately wishing she could take back the words.
He must think I’m an idiot.
    The man, who she guessed was a butler, merely nodded. “If you will please follow me.”
    Not much of a conversationalist, are you?
Then again maybe butlers weren’t supposed to be. She didn’t exactly run into them every day. Maybe people