Page 28 of The Playboy Billionaire

“It’s a functioning, successful business. It’s part of the wider community. It’s not something we can throw money at and hope it disappears.”

“We can, and we do. What’s got into you? We have plans for that space. Planning has been approved. Anyone who wants to stay gets first dibs on the new units and a fifty per cent reduction in rent. It’s how we work. It’s a model you designed.”

I run a hand through my hair and down my face, clasping my lips as I exhale. “Maybe so, but this time, we need to work out an alternative.”

Wes drops back hard in his chair, so much so it rocks. “What’s going on? You’re rattled, and you’re never rattled.”

“I’ve just had my ear chewed off by a bunch of OAPs telling me how much Ms April and her studio mean to them. We’ve fucked up Wes, and we need to fix it. We can get Jaxson to revise the plans.”

“The board will never go for it. They won’t accept any more delays,” he says.

“I don’t give a fuck what the board will and will not go for,” I hiss.

Wes shakes his head at my outburst. “I don’t understand. It’s a dance school. You’re not thinking straight.” He looks at me confused until a dawning crashes over him. “Oh. My. God. You want to get in her pants.” He laughs, making my heckles rise, and I dislike my right-hand man for the firsttime in forever. “What are you doing? Slumming it? Although I must say—a dancer. I bet she’s flexible?—”

“Be careful, Wes,” I say through gritted teeth, my fist clenching.

I’ve known Wes since school. When his father went bankrupt, I offered him a job, and he’s been with me ever since.

He gets up, wiping the tears from his eyes, totally oblivious to my anger. Is this how I’m perceived? I know my reputation and have, over the years, nurtured it to serve a purpose. I have no time or interest in social climbers, of tying myself to someone who is only interested in my name or bank balance. The models and actresses I’m photographed with, are there for our mutual benefit, often never in one place long enough to form a deep and meaningful relationship. They like to be able to call and know what they’re getting.

“Fine. I’ll talk to the team. See what we can come up with. But Caleb, think with your head and not with your dick,” he says, still chuckling as he makes his way to the door.

I stand up and lean forward, my hands resting on my desk. I keep my voice low and cold. “I am not thinking withmy dick, as you so eloquently put it. And if you ever say anything like that to me again.” I leave the unspoken threat hanging. “For your information, I met Ms Wilson in New York, and while I was havingdinnerwith her and some friends, her landlord was busy screwing her over. In my absence, the man I left in charge of Frazer Development was letting him.”

His eyes harden, knowing that person was him. He makes his way to the door, and I let him go without another word, too angry to say anything else.

Damn it! The woman has me tied up in knots.

April has more class than any of the women I’ve met recently or maybe ever. She also has the ability to make melaugh. In my company, she was oblivious to who I am. She knew me as Cal, not Caleb Frazer. Even when we returned to my suite that night, her eyes were on me, not the luxury surrounding us.

I pick up the phone and dial.

“Caleb?” Elijah, my older brother and head of Frazer Security, comes onto the line. “What can I do for you, little brother?”

“I need a favour,” I say, knowing what I’m about to ask is totally unethical.

“As family, we don’t do favours. What do you need?”

“April Wilson. Owner of Wilson’s Dance Studio, Sunny Down. I need you to tell me all you can about her.”

I hear him typing. “I’ll see what I can dig up.”

“And.”

“It’s between you and me. No one else will be involved. I’ll get back to you as soon as I find something,” he says.

“Thank you,” I say, my hand gripping the phone.

Elijah cuts off the line. Whether I should involve him, I don’t know. He’s been erratic lately, his mood swings are getting worse.

I stare at the phone as I replace it. Two days, and then I’ll see her again. I hope I can find a solution to assist April and the community. I pull up the plans on my screen. Running a swift calculation, I glance at the clock and pick up the phone.

“Caleb?”

“Jaxson. I need to talk to you about the plans for Sunny Down.”

There’s a groan at the end of the phone. “What’s happened?”

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