Page 219 of The Billionaires

ADRIAN

I look sternly at my dog. “Buddy, there’s no way you’re going with me to the dinner.”

He stares at me with his puppy eyes and squeezes out a whine.

But Jane smells so nice. Take me. Take me. Take me. Do I need to remind you that if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have met Jane in the first place?

“Tiffany is on her way to stay with you,” I tell him, and that seems to make him feel better because he likes his former dog trainer—who’s now his occasional dog sitter. “She’ll take you on a walk. Anywhere you want.”

Her timing impeccable, Tiffany shows up that very second, and I leave her and Leo as I go get ready for the dinner.

“I’m not sure when I’ll be back,” I tell Tiffany on my way out.

She shrugs. “I don’t have any plans. When Leo crashes for the night, I’ll just let myself out.”

“You’re the best,” I tell her.

She grins. “You look so dapper. May I ask where you’re going?”

“You may ask,” I say. “But I’m pleading the fifth.”

“Fair,” she says. “Have fun.”

When I get downstairs, my limo is already waiting for me.

I call Jennifer, who is in my rotation of drivers but is currently pretending to be an Uber driver. Per my instructions, she’s rented an armored version of the Toyota Camry, so Jane should be none-the-wiser about how much safer her trip is compared to a random Uber ride.

“Hello,” Jennifer says. After a pause, she adds, “No, you have the wrong number.”

Okay. Great. That’s code for “We’re on the way and on time.”

My chest feels like it’s expanding, something that usually only happens after a good workout. I guess I’m eager to see Jane again, but strictly as the answer to the wife question, of course.

Romance isn’t on my mind.

And it won’t be until I have 50/50 custody of Piper.

CHAPTER 7

JANE

When I walk into the restaurant, I audibly gasp—and not because of the amazing décor, a combination of Japanese themes with modern art touches. Nor is it the mouthwatering aromas that take my breath away. It’s not even the fact that the restaurant is completely empty, at peak dinner time.

No. It’s the sight of Adrian dressed in a smart suit that is messing with my breathing. His hair is neatly combed and?—

“Hi.” He stands up from the only table in the middle of the large space and pulls out a chair for me. “You look amazing.”

And just like that, I forgive Mom and Mary for all the earlier fussing. Almost.

“Have a seat,” Adrian says. “Please.”

He holds the chair until I go to sit, so I get a whiff of his cologne— which has notes of wood, honey, and mandarin, plus something virile that’s uniquely Adrian.

Knees feeling wobbly, I plop into the proffered seat, and as soon as he sits opposite me, I blurt, “Where are all the other patrons?”

Obviously, I’ve got an inkling.

“Itamae-san let me book the whole place,” Adrian says, confirming my suspicions. “So we won’t be bothered, if that was your concern.”

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