Page 7 of The Billionaires' Prize

“I prefer plant mom,” she chimes in, sounding all prim and proper. That’s so freaking hot. “And this plant mom needs her coffee.”

She heads for the kitchen, and I turn to Gabe. He really is so much cuter in real life than on the cover of those tech magazines.

“So what’s the plan?” I ask. “Please tell me you’re keeping these floors.”

He grunts. “You don’t care about the plans.” There’s no annoyance in his voice, just disbelief.

I give a grunt of my own. “Do you know who my mother is? Design is in my blood.”

A look of genuine curiosity brightens his features, and he turns back to the chaos. It’s like he’s seeing the space with fresh eyes, which makes me wonder exactly what the plan was. Did he know?

“Oh, don’t tell me you were going to gut it.”

Katherine gasps, paper coffee cup in hand.

Had she not thought of that when she saw the holes in the walls? These tech guys were all the same. Everything new. Sleek. Lifeless. It’s like they wanted their surroundings to be as streamlined and monochromatic as the computers they used every day. No texture. No character. No color.

He doesn’t deny the plan to gut the space and start over. Which makes zero sense in my mind. Some people would trip over themselves for these original details. But if he wants an ultra modern space like the house three doors down. . .

“Why not just tear it down?” I press, trying to figure out what’s going on in his head. “Start fresh, if that’s the aesthetic you were going for.”

He tosses his empty cup into a bucket and clamps his hands over his hips. Katherine shoots me another look. I don’t know why she’s sending daggers my way, but she obviously wants me to tone it down.

Right. He’s sensitive about this. I might want the girl, but I’m not a total jackass.

“I’m just saying, the place has great bones.” Just like its owner. Not that I’m looking.

I’m totally looking.

Stop looking.

Alex

I rub the strain from the back of my neck as I stalk across theporch and reach for the door handle. It’s locked, so I knock. My phone vibrates in my pocket for probably the fiftieth time today. My absence is catching up with me, and all the things I’ve been pushing off will no longer be denied. Starting with my team.

The lock flips, and Gabe pulls the door open, his mouth set in a tense line. Before I can ask him what’s wrong, I hear voices.

“Hear me out,” Kingston says, words quick, his tone excited. “Pizza oven.”

Husky laughter floats through the house, and I quirk a brow at Gabe. He shrugs, shakes his head, and closes the door behind me, letting out a sigh. “Come on.”

In the kitchen, Kingston’s huddled over a cell phone with Katherine. “See, it’ll work. Mom did it in her Cape Cod house. Alex, you like pizza, right?”

The younger man shoots me an expectant look over his golden shoulder.

I cut a glance at my best friend, a question in my eyes. What the fuck is going on?

“Alex. Pizza? I bet you’re a deep dish guy.”

“Sounds good,” I say. Gabe’s scowl deepens.

“Right? All new lighting, of course. Backlit glass cabinets up top. Under-cabinet lights. You want it to glow in here. Elegant but cozy.”

“Kingston has some design ideas,” Gabe finally says.

“A pizza oven?”

“Why not? This kitchen is huge. You’ve got the space,” Kingston says, hands gesturing toward the wall between the kitchen and living room.

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