Page 15 of Billion Dollar Revenge

His face is pinched tight, especially between his brows.

“Chelsea. I thought it was you,” he responds with a blank expression, coming to stand beside me.

The waves of nausea in my belly make me try to lighten the mood. “Do you usually pull over for anyone who looks like me?”

Seeing a familiar face right now brings immense relief.

He rubs the back of his neck before tucking his hands into his pockets. “No.”

“I'm only playing with you.” The words die on my tongue when he doesn’t laugh with me. His usual unreadable expression is firmly in place.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, nudging toward my car.

I release a strangled breath. “My car won’t start. It started fine this morning, but halfway to my job, it just died,” I explain, knowing I’m already starting to babble.

It seems I do that a lot with him. Well, more than my normal amount.

“Did you call AAA?” he asks, keeping his eyes down on my car.

“Yeah, they said they’d be here in half an hour,” I reply, lips pressed together to prevent further rambling.

A glint touches his eyes under the early morning light. “What time do you start work?”

“My first Pilates class starts at six-thirty.”

He runs his hand along his jaw, which is noticeably smoother than the last time I saw him.

Nodding, he peers at his watch. Which I can’t help but notice is silver with gold details embossed with the Rolex logo. “My driver can drop you at work, and he can come back for me. I’ll deal with AAA for you.”

I scoff. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll order a taxi after I’ve dealt with this.”

“No, just take the ride.”

I can't imagine this handsome man waiting by a white beetle to tell AAA it broke down.

No, just no.

“I don’t want to be the reason you’re late to work. Your job is important.” I wave him off. Being a CEO has to be demanding. He has better things to do with his time. It’s my problem. I can deal with it.

“So is yours,” he counters.

I shake my head. He’s just being nice; he isn’t serious. “It’s only Pilates. I’m not saving the world or anything.”

“You instruct people to care for their health. Don’t discredit yourself,” he says sincerely.

I gaze stupidly at him, momentarily stunned. My lips part as I suck in slow, deep breaths. Why does he have to remind me that my job isn’t just a hobby? Did the damn universe set this up? Bobby and his boss sure do have very different views on Pilates.

“Thanks, but I can’t take your ride. I can cancel my first class. I was just about to call my boss.”

He steps toward me so his face is closer to mine, his eyes hard, demanding. “No, take my car. I have nothing important due today,” he urges.

My knees buckle at him being close again. “But you’ll have to wait here.” I point at the sidewalk.

“And?” he counters, his expression blank.

I press my lips together and force myself to look at the car and not at him.

“This doesn’t seem like something you’d normally do,” I murmur, wondering why he’s doing this. What’s in it for him?

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