Page 88 of Billion Dollar Revenge

My phone pings again, and I struggle not to read it because I'm not used to my messages blowing up from a guy.

“I might head to the studio and get a workout in. Summer, do you want to come?” I ask.

Both of them laugh.

Summer snorts. “No chance.”

“That’s my cue to leave,” Nova says.

“I’m not just working out; I need to build my website too.”

“You need to pay someone to do that,” Summer says.

“You’re taking on so much,” Nova says.

“I’m not, it's fun, and if I get stuck Evan will help me,” I tell them.

Standing, I walk with Summer to the door, where we say goodbye to Nova.

I get ready and head to the studio. I feel much better from stretching and taking myself through one of the workouts I plan to teach. After I open my computer, I begin playing around with the website and the booking system.

After half an hour, I'm a little hot and sweaty. It hasn’t been as smooth as I originally thought.

My phone rings.

Looking at the screen, I see Evan’s name flashing.

I smile, unable to believe that this guy keeps calling and messaging me.

“Hello.”

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“I'm in the studio, trying to add the booking system.”

He must hear the stress in my voice. “You okay?”

I blow out a breath, trying to calm myself down so I don’t cause him to panic. “Yeah, it's just a little tricky, that’s all.”

“I'll come and help you out.”

“I don't want to disturb you,” I say in a rush, trying to prevent him from helping me instead of doing his work.

“You’re not.” The sincerity in his voice has my shoulders dropping in relief.

“It would be nice to have some help,” I admit, smiling to myself.

“I'll be there soon.”

He hangs up, and I sigh in relief.

Ten minutes later, he knocks on my office door.

I remember that he has a key to let himself into the top floor but not inside my studio. Getting up from my desk chair, I move to the door and open it up for him.

He’s looking freshly shaved, and I take in his designer gray and white pinstripe suit and matching gray tie. There’s not a hair out of place from whatever styling gel he uses to keep his waves secured. During my inspection, he bends to capture my lips with his in a hard but brief kiss.

“Hey, Shell.”

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