Page 21 of The Billionaire's Heart

“Yes, exactly”

“Okay. So?” she shrugs her shoulders as if it’s no big deal.

“So, they’ll be asking questions about who you are. There’ll be a lot of flashing cameras coming at us in all directions all at once. If you want to skip all that, I can have the driver take youaround to another entrance, but I’m a major donor, so I have to go down the carpet.”

“Is that what your normal dates would do? Go in another entrance?”

“No, but this is all new to you.”

She looks like she’s pondering the opportunity to avoid the press. “No, it’s fine. I’ll walk with you. The cameras don’t bother me. Besides, we’re trying to impress Mr. Sutherland. If I go in another entrance, that will look suspicious.”

“Okay, well, don’t answer anyone’s questions, and you’ll be fine. Just smile and stay by my side. If at any time you get uncomfortable, just let me know and I’ll get you inside quickly, okay?” I’m not sure she’s adequately prepared for what’s about to happen, but I’ll handle the press.

“Okay.”

“We’re here, sir.” The driver states as we pull up to the entrance.

“Here we go. Don’t open your door. Someone will open it for you.”

Mia nods to me, and it’s the first time I’ve seen her face pale. There is a lot of press here, but it’s too late now. In for a penny, in for a pound.

Both back doors open simultaneously, and I quickly climb out, buttoning the front of my jacket, and make my way around to Mia’s door to help her out of the limo.

Once the press realizes it’s me, the cameras and questions go crazy.

“Who’s the date, Ian?”

“Who’s on your arm, Ian?”

“Ian! Ian! Look over here, Ian!”

Click, click, click, click, click, click.

“What’s your name?”

“What’s your name?”

“Are you dating Ian Gallo?”

“How long have you been dating Ian?”

“Who are you?”

I place my hand on Mia’s lower back, feeling her shiver a bit, and lead her onto the carpet and to the first stopping point the organizers have set up for pictures. We turn and face the press and I smile as the cameras snap a million photos of us.

The questions don’t slow down, but they repeat over and over again.

“Who’s the date, Ian?”

“Who’s on your arm, Ian?”

“Ian! Ian! Look over here, Ian!”

Click, click, click, click, click, click.

“What’s your name?”

“Hey, what’s your name?”

---