Page 18 of One Billion Reasons

10

Lane

If today is anything to go by, this will not, in fact, be the easiest fifty grand I’ve ever made. The car that Miles picks me up in is sleek and black and stupid. I don’t know anything about cars, but even I can tell this one cost more than I make in a year. His driver opens the door for me, and I duck into the dark interior. It smells like leather and woodsy cologne.

Miles glances up from his phone, and my breath catches at how handsome he looks. He must be wearing what he considers to be fashion, but to me, it looks like an ancient surfing T-shirt and faded jeans. Not what I expected.

“Good morning, Lane.” His voice is smooth, but his eyes are laughing at me and my outfit of leggings and a T-shirt. I hate being up this early, and it shows on my face.

“Do billionaires wear T-shirts now?” I ask as I slide in next to him.

“This one does.”

“I hope you packed a tux for the wedding.” I lean back against the seat as the car moves into traffic, silent and stealthy. “You probably can’t wear a T-shirt to that.”

“I can do whatever I want, I bet. Who’s going to stop me?” The look on his face is cocky and confident. The thing is, with how delicious his tanned arms look in that T-shirt, I bet no one would stop him.

I roll my eyes instead of responding and look out the window. We’re headed into Manhattan, and the car moves silently through the early morning. The interior is dark and quiet, shielded from the world outside, and from the driver through the privacy divider. I stifle a yawn.

“Tired?”

“It’s way too early for this.” I lean my head against the cool glass and shut my eyes.

“I forgot you’re not a morning person.” His voice is laughing at me. “Though I should have remembered, since you threatened me enough times in the predawn hours.”

“Don’t remind me. I love the morning light, but I hate getting up for photoshoots. And you deserved those threats. You’re annoying as hell before 9 a.m.” We were up enough times to catch the first early waves, the first rays of sunshine. Liam and I spent every summer with him in Montauk for eight years. Those were the best summers of my life.

“And here I was under the impression that you find me annoying at any hour.”

“That too,” I grumble.

“Maybe this will keep the annoyance at bay.”

I open my eyes, and he passes me a coffee. A plain white cup from a Manhattan deli.

“This should buy me at least an hour, maybe two?”

I sip the coffee with pleasure. “Thirty minutes. And another thirty minutes for remembering that I like it light and sweet.”

His lips tilt. “Yeah, I just told them to make it disgusting.”

I roll my eyes. “Still drinking it black like the real macho man you are? Or wait, don’t tell me, you and your tech-bro buddies drink fair trade coffee blended with organic butter.”

He narrows his eyes at me. “No, I prefer that coffee made from elephant dung. It’s a delicacy.”

“Only you would think drinking shit is a delicacy.”

He huffs a laugh and goes back to his phone. I try to nap, and I must fall asleep, because soon I’m hearing, “Laney, wake up.” And for a second, I’m a kid again, and I’m being bundled out of the car by my parents and into the house. Isn’t that the ultimate comfort? Someone who loves you so much that they can’t bear to wake you?

When I open my eyes, I see what looks like apology in Miles’s clear grey ones. But then I blink and it’s gone.

* * *

A shocked noise tears from my throat when we step onto the tarmac and I see Kings Lane Capital emblazoned on the side of a gleaming jet.

“Private? You fly private? This is ridiculous.”

“It’s the only way to fly,” he tosses over his shoulder. “But today, we’re actually taking the Pilatus. A much smaller plane. East Hampton Airport isn’t big enough for the jet.”

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