Page 29 of The Billionaire's Princess

Just like that, she shifts my mood again. One of the reasons she’s such a joy to have around.

“We’re trying to close on a huge deal in Tokyo. There’s a funding issue. Makes life messy.”

Her attention sharpens. “Yes, you’re a real estate magnate, I believe?”

I laugh. “Yep. That’s what I put on my tax returns. That or Real Estate Emperor.”

“Now I don’t feel so bad,” she says, grinning as she picks up her knife and begins to chop. “Guess what I have to put on my forms when someone asks my profession?”

“What?”

“Princess of the United Kingdom.”

I grimace. “That’s horrifying.”

“I know! So what’s this building, then? It must be particularly important, judging by the look on your face when I walked in. Center for curing cancer? Ground zero for the war on climate change?”

I stifle a snort of laughter. “Real estate is not a laughing matter. Kindly give me the absolute respect and deference that I deserve. High-rise apartments. What else?”

“Sounds fancy,” she says, showing impressive skills with her knife. “Did you always want to be in real estate? Growing up?”

I think that over. “Did I always want to pull together funding and structure these complicated deals? No. Did I want to work with my father to rebuild his company and make him proud of me? Yes.”

“Well, I certainly understand making parental figures proud,” she mutters, pursing her lips. “Trying to, anyway.”

“Yeah?” By now I’ve progressed to seasoning the chicken, but I pause, intrigued. “Is there a story there?”

“Course. But we are talking about your story right now. Stop trying to distract me. So you’re happy being a real estate emperor?”

I have a tough time coming up with an answer to this baffling question.

“The Black family is in real estate. My name is Damon Black, which means that I’m in real estate. What’s the puzzle?”

“Yes, but are you fulfilled?” she says, sounding bemused.

I open my mouth but, again, no answer is immediately forthcoming.

“I’m a force to be reckoned with. I get to buy the toys I want when I want them. That’s fulfilling.”

“So that’s what you want in life? Toys and respect?”

“No,” I say before I think to stop myself. “I want to win. I want my holdings to have nine zeros before the decimal point. Which should happen this year if I stay on track and this sale doesn’t fall through.”

As a generally smart guy who’s fended off more than his fair share of gold diggers and Mrs. Damon Black wannabes, I really should know better. You don’t shoot off at the mouth about your net worth and then hope people want you for you. Not a strategic move.

On the other hand, there’s something so disarming about Carly that I can’t seem to fend her off. It’s like she sneaks inside my brain and steals these little secrets before I can stop her. And I’m still fighting this overwhelming urge to prove to her that I’m worth keeping around for a while.

Is it twisted for her to want me for me while also wanting her to give me credit for being a baby billionaire?

Yes.

Does Carly have my thoughts twisted into abnormal positions?

Also yes.

Do I care?

Evidently not.

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