Page 240 of The Billionaires

“Hi, Daddy,” she says sweetly, voicing Piper in a mockery of what I do with Leo.

“Hi,” I say, determined to stay cordial.

“About the visitation this weekend,” she says. “I’m not sure if I can make it. Can we move it to Monday?”

My jaw ticks. “That’s fine.”

In reality, every moment of delay is like getting stabbed, but right now, I have to pick and choose my battles.

“Great,” she says. “Are you going to The Ball?"

So this is the real reason for her calling. “I almost forgot about that, but yeah. I’ll be there.” Not that it will change anything. No matter how often Sydney contrives to be around me, it will not make me want to tie the knot with her. Quite the opposite, actually.

“It’s a date then,” she says, and before I can reply, she hangs up.

I blow out a weary breath.

If Jane pulls out, I’ll need to find someone else to attend the event with me, or else Sydney will be even more sure that it’s a date.

Leo walks into the room, wags his tail, and points his nose at the empty water bowl.

“Sorry.” I pour him some water as my phone dings.

When I check the notification, my heartbeat skyrockets.

“She did it. She signed everything,” I tell Leo excitedly.

He looks up from his water bowl, his whole face drenched, as usual.

See? You got this. Just sniff her butt very gentle-like when you see her next, and all will be forgiven and forgotten.

My elation lasts all through my evening walk in the park with Leo. Between Jane’s acceptance and the successful completion of the internet scrubbing, I can dare to hope that the hearing might actually go my way, and I’ll get to be in Piper’s life.

Only one thing sours my mood. I can’t shake the expression on Jane’s face when she saw those stupid nudes in the gallery.

Hmm. If Jane had a negative reaction, so might someone else. A prudish judge, for example.

Shit. Could the gallery bite me in the ass?

Sydney doesn’t know about the art, but many people do, so she or her lawyers could find out. Not to mention, Sydney has access to my building to make Piper’s visitations easier, so she could theoretically stumble upon the gallery, recognize one of my subjects the way Jane did, take some pictures, and hand them to her lawyers.

Nope. I’m not taking any risks as far as Piper is concerned—not to mention, this way, Jane can come back to the gallery without getting upset.

Making a snap decision, I get in touch with a few people until I find out the most secure and private storage location for the art and arrange a move. In a few years, I might give the pieces back to the women who modeled for them, but for now, it’s best they remain out of sight.

Still, even after doing that, I feel uneasy—because I don’t think I’ve resolved what bothered Jane the most: the fact that my former lovers are working for me.

Could Sydney’s lawyers use that against me? Twist things to make it seem like I slept with some of the women while they worked for me or in exchange for their jobs?

Nope. Can’t take that chance either. In fact, I feel dumb for not thinking of this sooner.

Perching on a bench, I type out an email to Caroline and then call her. She’s another person whose painting I’m going to be storing away, and she also happens to be the most talented headhunter in New York.

“I need you to find some people new jobs,” I say. “Higher paying than what they’ve got now.”

“Who?” Caroline asks.

“The links to their LinkedIn profiles are in your inbox,” I say.

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