Page 44 of Coffee Break with the Billionaire

“Duty calls. As you can see, I’m closing up for the night. What are you up to?”

“It seems to me that there might be a common misunderstanding that my car is too much car for me,” I tell.

“That was just Jonathan—”

“I can prove myself and give you a ride,” I interrupt. “Somewhere. Just so you can vouch for me being a capable driver.”

“Fenella, you don’t need anyone to vouch for you.”

“But I’d like to go for a drive,” I say, suddenly unsure. Me, who has held conversations with A-listers everywhere, who once approached Leo DiCaprio to ask him for dinner, and went up to Tom Holland at some awards show and invited him for a drink. This was before Zendaya, of course.

So why is the Fenella who did all that having trouble asking Silas to go for a drive with her?

“With you,” I finish in a rush. “If you’re not busy. Or have plans. Or a date.”

Silas’s smile slowly creeps across his face like the sun rising in the morning. “You heard Wyatt—I don’t date.And my plans involve staying awake to get another glimpse at Neptune tonight.”

“I can help with that.” I grab the thermos from the passenger seat. “I have soup.”

“Soup. Well, then.” He straightens up and gives a tap. “I’ll get us a couple of coffees and lock up. Be right out.”

“I’ll be here,” I tell him, the warm glow shooting off fireworks inside me now.

Chapter sixteen

Silas

“Hi,” Fenella says asI slide into her car. Her smile is a mix of excitement and uncertainty, and the combination is adorable.

I never would have imagined Fenella could be adorable. There is a thesaurus-length worth of descriptives for her, but adorable? Cute?

Seeing her behind the wheel of a bright yellow Charger, with the engine rumbling like a low-grade earthquake? Definitely cute.

I hand her a cup. “Pumpkin spice and vanilla.”

Her fingers brush mine as she takes it. “You remembered.”

“It’s not that difficult, since you had three of them already today. Maybe I should have made it a decaf.”

She shakes her head as she takes a sip. “Caffeine does nothing to me. I think it was all the Red Bulls I drank when I was younger.”

“That stuff will rot your stomach.”

“Don’t tell my brother or Gunnar. The company sponsored them for a while when they were playing at extreme sports.”

“That shouldn’t be something youplaywith.” I take a sip of my tea—caffeine does do things for me, so I’ve switched to decaffeinated Earl Grey with steamed milk—and study Fenella. “What’s the plan?”

“I don’t do plans.” She laughs. “Haven’t you figured that out yet?”

“There are quite a few things I’ve yet to figure out about you,” I tell her honestly.

“I’m a woman of mystery. Actually, I’m not. My life is an open book to all. You said I should see more of Laandia.” Taking another sip of her coffee, she settles the cup in the holder in the console between the seats. Her phone is propped up, playing the latest Taylor Swift album.

This should be uncomfortable; I barely know Fenella. She now works for me—sort of, since she refuses to let me pay her—but what do I really know about her?

I know she smells like cherries. That she favours silver jewelry, especially her collection of rings. And that her selection of coats will not be warm enough for October in Laandia. “And you should see more of it. Is that what you had in mind? Sightseeing in the dark?”

“Maybe some stars?”

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