Page 26 of Blackmail of a Billionaire

“Are you sure? I don’t want to take up extra time in your schedule.”

“Yes. That’s perfect. I can’t wait to see you.”

“Me too, Juju. It’s been too long. I’ll let you go and see you tomorrow. Love you, kiddo.”

“I love you, too.” Julia pulled the phone from her ear and ended the call, staring at the name on the screen until it disappeared.

The thought of seeing Ethan in the morning brought a small, genuine smile to her face. Their meeting was a lifeline, a reminder of a world before contracts and pretenses, a world where her relationships were defined by genuine emotion, not convenience or strategy.

As she curled up with her ice cream, losing herself in the drama of her television program, she clung to the idea of that upcoming reunion which would provide a rare oasis of normalcy in the complex desert that had become her current life.

When the end credits of the program rolled by on her screen, she flicked off the set. Her eyes hovered on the empty bowl, and she considered returning it to the kitchen, though she preferred not to incur Worthington’s gentle wrath about taking on household duties. She needed to keep at least one friend in the house, she thought, as she shuffled to bed and crawled between the expensive sheets.

Every comfort of this house seemed like an elaborate trick, designed to trap her into a sense of ease when she should feel anything but relaxed. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping the excitement of the evening sent her off to a dreamless sleep.

Her wishes were granted and the next sound she heard was the screaming of her alarm, ripping through blackness. She startled awake, her heart pounding as she bolted upright.

Her mind quickly sought to orient her, though after it did, she wished it hadn’t. She tossed aside the covers as memories of the tense situation from the night before played in her mind. Sierra’s insinuations still stung even in the cold light of day.

But she had something else to look forward to. With a smile playing on her lips, she hurried into the en-suite bathroom to shower and dress for her meeting with Ethan.

Within the hour, she’d pulled herself together and, with her purse in hand, hurried through the halls to the foyer.

As she descended the stairs, Worthington greeted her. “Good morning, Mrs. Harrington. Heading out?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll have James bring your car around,” he said with a bob of his head.

She waved the statement away. “No need, I’ll head down there for the keys.”

“Are you quite certain? And no breakfast?”

“Not today,” she answered. “And, yes, I’m certain. It’s no trouble at all, and the truth is I’m running a little late.”

Worthington offered her a polite smile as she dashed toward the door.

“Julia?” Grant’s voice called from behind her. She twisted to find him descending the stairs. “You’re leaving?”

“Uh, yes,” she said, averting her gaze to the floor as she felt warmth flood her cheeks. “I have an appointment this morning.”

He studied her for a moment, his eyes narrowing for a split second. “Is James driving you?”

“No,” she said, forcing a cheery smile onto her nervous features, “I was going to drive. Now that you bought me that new car, I figured I’d use it.”

She tried to stop herself from babbling, her tendency when nervous.

“Right,” he answered. “Good, I’m glad you like it.”

She offered him another nervous grin and a nod before she said, “Bye!” in far too fake of a tone and fled from the foyer into the cool morning air. She gasped for breath as she hurried across the lawn toward James’s condo. Memories flooded her mind, and she struggled to silence the self-reproach for her awkward behavior.

“You may as well have had a sign that says you’re hiding something.” She rolled her eyes at herself and pushed her mind to project the image of her driving down the drive toward her meeting with Ethan.

It didn’t work well when she had to correct it from her usual vehicle choice to the sleek new sports car Grant had surprised her with after the concussion.

She recalled him insisting she come downstairs, close her eyes, and head out into the driveway. The sapphire blue Porsche cost more than most people’s salaries and had stunned her into silence.

“You don’t like it,” he said, his features deflating.

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