Page 27 of The Bossy Billionaire

“Thought as much. How were the kids today?” I can’t help but smile as I think of the packed crowd we had earlier. All the usual kids were here, but after the media storm at the gala, I have been getting a lot more patronage. While I don’t like being in the limelight, it does help with promoting the store.

“It was a full house. Dwayne was run off his feet.” The cash jar had to be emptied about three times in as many hours.

“Good. How was the stock today?” he asks, knowing Wednesday is delivery day. Okay, so I guess we are playing this as purely business. A flash of disappointment runs through me. Perhaps it wasn’t special to him.

“Fine. Shelves are full, just how I like them,” I tell him, looking around my store, feeling proud.

“So I went through your finances, and you are right, something doesn’t seem to be adding up. I have passed them on to my finance guy to take a quick look as well. I hope you don’t mind?” he says, and I am a little shocked.

“No, I don’t mind. But really, I am sure you and your team have a lot of things to be working on that doesn’t involve my little bookstore, so don’t even worry about it,” I offer. This level of detail is above anything I thought a business coach offers.

“He has time. Leave it with me. While the finances looked tight, I think we should look at ways to upgrade the shop a little.” My eyes drop to the floor.

“Carpet. I need new carpet,” I mumble, mentally going through how long my maintenance list is.

“I’m worried about the stairs out back. They aren’t safe,” he says, and my eyes flick to the stairs in question.

“They are fine. It is only me that uses them. It is blocked off to the public.” They are the stairs to my apartment. No one can get back there.

“But they are a hazard.” I squint at them. If they fell away or broke, it wouldn’t affect the shop at all; they are totally separate.

“No one can be injured. It is blocked off as private. No one goes there.”

“But you do. I did,” he states, and I am quiet for a beat. The subject of him in my apartment has now been broached.

“They are fine,” I assure him, waiting to see where he is going with this.

“Lucy, you are there by yourself every night. You need to be safe.” His voice sounds pained.

“Don’t worry about me. They might be old, but they are sturdy,” I tell him, not wanting to have the focus on me. It is true, the stairs look bad, but they are safe. I think. “But I wouldn’t mind new carpet. The kids run and play on it all day, and I really think something fresh and soft would be good for them,” I say, looking at the floor in front of me that I have covered in colorful mats to hide the worn areas.

“Do you always do this?” he asks, and I am even more confused.

“Do what?”

“Put others in front of yourself?” He points out what is obvious to him but not even on my radar.

“I don’t do that.” I shake my head, even though he can’t see me..

“You do, Lucy. You give away free coffee and books; you prefer to have soft carpet for the kids rather than safe stairs for you. You need to focus on you too.” His tone is one of exasperation, and I’m not sure how I feel about it.

“The focus has been on me so much, I am sick of thinking about myself,” I tell him, not expecting him to understand, but when your face is in the local media all because of a fire and who your mother is, you get sick of looking at yourself.

“Why don’t you get a few carpet quotes, and I can help you decide where to move the funds around,” he says, resigned, and I am thankful he doesn’t argue, although it isn’t like him.

“What’s wrong with you?” I ask. He doesn’t sound normal.

“Nothing, why?” His reply is too quick.

“Because you are not your usual bossy self.”

“I need you to know something,” he breathes out again like it pains him.

“Ohhh…kay?” I ask tentatively, because now I am intrigued.

“I left your place…” he starts, and my breath catches in my throat. I sit up and prepare myself for the rejection I fear is coming.

“It’s fine, Huxley. We don’t have to talk about it.” My body is starting to sweat. He clearly thought it was a mistake. He practically ran from me, so that means he doesn’t feel that way about me.

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