Page 112 of Billion Dollar Mistake

“I’m going to roll out of here. Or maybe I’ll go extra hard at boxing tomorrow,” I say rubbing my stomach.

“You box, Nova?” Iris asks in a high-pitched tone.

“Yes, I’ve found it to be a really good outlet.”

“She’s really good,” Jeremy adds.

I look at him with a smile, remembering the two times he’s seen me train. I find it endearing that he wants to support me.

“Thanks,” I whisper to him.

He winks.

“I think it’s time we go,” Jeremy announces as soon as dessert is cleared.

I thought it might be too soon, but his brothers all stand and announce they’re leaving too.

“Good idea,” Iris says, obviously ready for us all to leave now.

“Thank you all for hosting me. It was a pleasure to meet you all and thanks for dinner it was delicious,” I say addressing everyone.

“You’re very welcome,” Eliza says.

“Anytime. Please come back,” Iris adds, remaining seated.

I nod and stand. Jeremy laces his fingers with mine. I say goodbye to his brothers and leave.

Jeremy's car is here today. No driver.

It’s a two-door black sports car. I don’t have a clue what make or model it is, other than it looks expensive. He pulls open the door and I sit on the cream leather.

The coldness is refreshing on my boiling skin.

Meeting his whole family has exhausted me. I’m ready to go and fall asleep. Preferably in his arms at his house.

He gets into the driver's seat and starts the car. Neither of us speaks for the ten-minute journey to Jeremy’s.

All we did the whole time at his grams was talk. Now I want to relax.

He parks his car in the underground garage and when he opens the door with one hand, he holds the present in the other. I know as soon as we get inside, I’ll want him to open it. One is a joke present; the other is a thoughtful one I had made.

We head to his bedroom on instinct. Neither of us needs to say that's where we are headed. We just both knew it’s the place to go.

Inside his room, he lowers the present to a set of white drawers.

“Open your present,” I command when I realize he is going to store it away for later.

He grabs the present and brings it to his bed to unwrap it. I can’t contain the stupid smile sitting on my face.

“A towel and cards,” he asks, puzzled.

“The towel is more for me. You need to open the cards.”

The poker cards are matte black with black foiling, but his family name is in gold and personalised.

“I don’t want the towel. I told you I want you on my table. Scratch that. I want you everywhere. I want my house to be full of you. By the way, I plan on doing that every time we’re together.”

A thrill of longing courses through me. I’d willingly let him repeat that every single time.

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