Page 16 of The Billionaires' Prize

They’re ready to go and have me packed as well. A girl could get used to this. I glance back to Kingston and quirk a brow upward.You coming?

6

GABE

We make it from the helicopter to our parking garage with zero hassle, thanks to Alex’s team. I don’t know about everyone else, but I’m breathing a sigh of relief because the last thing I need is the head of PR lighting up my phone again. I’m already dreading tomorrow’s meetings.

As it is, no one’s around to see me, Alex, Katherine, and Kingston get out of the midnight black SUV together. As we ride the elevator up to Katherine’s apartment, Kingston is practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. I don’t know him well enough to know if this is nervousness or if he’s always this energetic. But based on his social media, I’d say it’s a bit of both.

His feed is full of pictures of him doing gravity-defying parkour tricks and hanging from light posts. If it’s climbable, he’s probably scaled it. Seems he’s utterly fearless.

At least he’s wearing a shirt now.

The tension between the four of us is heavy enough to crush diamonds. Katherine stands in the back corner, gaze downcast, as if she’s afraid we’ll try to talk to her but isn’t ready for the conversation yet.

Talking isn’t what I’m interested in at the moment.

Ding.

The doors open, and Alex and I move to the side. Katherine steps off, cupping the potted plant. Succubus. Sucralose. I’ve already forgotten what she called it.

Alex stalks behind her, shoulders back like he’s ready for a photographer to jump out of the coat closet. I don’t bother to tell him to relax or remind him we’re in a secure building. His team and the building security have been working together to ensure we’re not bothered. This is just how he is. On alert.

Kingston grabs his bag and follows, right at home. His ease speaks of years in Katherine’s life and in her apartment, and I’ll admit, I’m jealous.

My phone vibrates, and I hold the elevator door open as I glance at the screen.

Wallace: Investigator just arrived. Will have a report for you soon.

Anxiety and relief swirl through me as I read my attorney’s text. Finally. Some fucking answers to the mystery that has become my beach house.

I pull up the rear, my chest tight. Her entryway is softly lit by twin sconces flanking a tall mirror. She places the pot on a sleek, glass table. A plush rug muffles our steps.

She takes her dress and shoes from me. “Be back in a minute. Make yourselves at home.”

We watch her disappear through a door across the room. The kitchen is to the left, and the living room to the right features the high ceilings and tall windows. The dining area is tucked away and cozy.

I take a deep breath, my body instantly relaxing at the delicious scent perfuming the air. It’s soft, almost delicate, slightly musky, and a little floral, with a hint of smoke andconifer. It’s neither feminine nor masculine, simply classic, and I make a mental note to find out what it is.

One of my favorite parts of having money is how nice everything smells.

Fancy good old boys’ club? Bourbon and leather.

Tailor on Fifth Avenue? Timeless, with hints of cooling rain and spice.

Offices, hotels, and even car dealers have custom-designed scents that seduce the senses. And not a single one of them smells anything like the cows I had to milk as a kid.

Her place is homey and put together, with little touches that remind me of her. From the modern chandelier over the dining room table to the fuzzy blanket on the back of the sleek sectional that dominates the room. The plush fabric looks soft and luxurious, like a perfect place for a nap. Or to watch a game. The far wall has a large series of shelving dotted with plants. I do a slow turn, learning everything I can about her from her space.

“So what is this?” Kingston asks, dropping his duffle behind the sectional.

Though he gives no context, I know what he’s asking. It’s the same question that’s been running through my mind all morning. And it’s only grown louder since he showed up.

“This?”

“Are the three of you dating?” He crosses his arms and leans against the couch. It’s like he’s trying to come off casual, but I can see the defensiveness in him. Feel the hurt-boy vibes he’s throwing off.

“No,” Alex says, and I add a “Nope. Alex is straight.”

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