Page 39 of My Big, Fat, Hot Billionaire Enemy
It should be professional but… allied?
I type another short message.
Need to discuss Morgan Weiss.Urgent. Suggest off-site meeting. Confidential. Let me know time/place.
- L. Hammond
I hitsend before I can second guess myself for the hundredth time. The little ‘delivered’ notification pops up almost instantly.
Now I wait to see if the enemy of my enemy is truly my friend.
Or just a different kind of predator circling closer.
My stomach does a nervous flip. This secret alliance, if that’s what it becomes, feels like walking a tightrope over a shark tank. With flippers on.
But hey, at least the view is… interesting? Yeah, let’s go with interesting.
It sounds waaaayyy better than terrifying.
13
Christopher
Her text arrives on the secure burner phone I keep solely for untraceable communication. Short. Direct. Urgent.
She took the bait. Or the lifeline. Depends on your perspective, I suppose. Took her long enough. But she figured it out. Smart girl.
Now what the fuck do I do with her?
Off-site meeting. Confidential. She doesn’t want this meeting tracked back to either of our offices. Prudent.
My first instinct is a neutral location. A private room. Something secure. The usual playbook.
But something makes me hesitate. This isn’t the usual playbook anymore, is it?
Not since I sent that goddamn file. Not since… the gala.
Fuck it.
I text back coordinates. Not to a hotel. Not to a safe house. To my penthouse.Myspace. The place I rarely letanyoneconnected to business enter. Not evenTatiana comes up here. Well, at least not often. My guy Whitfield manages the household, keeps things running smoothly in the background. This is my sanctuary. My fortress of solitude, minus the superhero spandex and arctic temperatures.
But why? Why bring herhere?
Is it a power play? Show her the view from the top, the spoils of war she could access if she plays her cards right? Intimidate her with the sheer scale of my success?
Yeah, the latter maybe. That sounds like me.
Or is it something else? Something embarrassingly close to… wanting to impress her?
Fucking ridiculous.
I haven’t felt the need to impress anyone since I clawed my way out from under my father’s shadow.
Or maybe it’s just simpler. A controlled environment. My security, my tech, no risk of surveillance from Weiss or my father’s people.
Yeah. That’s what it is. Strategic advantage.
Much cleaner than admitting any hint of personal motivation.
