Page 17 of Billion Dollar Revenge

I swear the way his cheeks turn a slight shade of pink makes him seem younger. His eyes sweep over my body quickly before meeting my gaze. “I’ve seen you a few times now.” He runs his hand over his clean-shaven jawline, as if I hadn’t already noticed it.

Which reminds me of our last run-in.

“Thanks for getting my car fixed. It was a huge relief, and you pretty much saved the day.”

“I’m glad I could help,” he says simply. Something about it makes my stomach flutter.

“How much do I owe you?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing.”

I roll my eyes. “You can’t expect me to let you pay for it.”

“Why? We’re friends, right?”

“Yes, but…” I stutter out, totally caught off guard.

“But nothing. That’s what friends do.”

My mouth opens and closes, trying to think of something to say, and he just watches me with a wolfish grin.

“Thank you so much, Evan. I really appreciate you taking care of everything. It means a lot to me.”

“I’m glad I could help.”

His usual controlled stance seems a little softer today. More relaxed.

I drop the idea of trying to pay him back. We’ll argue, and it will get me nowhere. Considering it’s only a new battery and not a whole new car, it probably won’t make a dent in his account.

“What are you doing here?” I ask with a smile. “Stalking me?”

“No, of course not,” he rushes out in a quick, sharp voice, his eyes narrowing.

“I’m kidding, relax,” I tease, loving how easy it is to rile him up.

He nods curtly before his eyes shift to the top of the building and then back to me. “Checking out a new office space,” he answers.

My jaw slacks. I hope it's not the same as mine. I won’t be able to outbid him.

“You?” he asks, his eyes drop briefly to my outfit.

It adds to my nerves, so I blurt, “I’m meeting a real-estate agent to check out a potential space for my own Pilates studio.”

His brow lifts. “Which floor?”

“Second. You?”

Please don’t be the same.

“The top,” he murmurs.

Is he embarrassed to say that?

I don’t care. If I could afford the top, I’d buy it. My budget is already generous enough, thanks to my parents. Without them, I wouldn’t be looking on Madison Avenue at all.

“Chelsea?” Mitchell says.

Evan quickly crosses his arms in front of his chest and gives Mitchell a sullen look. Mitchell walks right up to us and stands beside me. He’s wearing a cheesy smile and a pinstripe suit, his blond hair swept back.

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