Page 59 of The Plus One Contract

Nathan hums like he’s considering the logistics of chartering a plane to retrieve a single dress.

Then, in a voice too smooth for my current level of distress, he asks, “Where are you?”

I frown. “Why?”

“Because I’m coming to you.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Text me the name of the store.”

“Nathan—”

“I’ll be there in ten.”

The line goes dead.

I blink at my phone.

Well, okay then.

∞∞∞

Rubbing my temples to soothe the headache beginning to bloom behind my eyes, I scan the dresses again, hoping that something will jump out at me and say, “Here, wear this.”

No such luck.

It’s not helping that I accidentally tripped and fell into the designer store across from the one with the reasonably priced dresses.

“Struggling that much, huh?”

I jump, spinning around to be met with those stormy eyes while he looks far too at ease in a tailored navy suit, standing in the middle of a department store like he owns the place.

After what I found online, he probably does.

The thought slips out before I can stop it. “You don’t own this place, do you?”

His brows lift before he glances around.

Christ. He’s thinking about it.

“Not that I know of,” he muses, looking almost uncertain. “Why?”

I shift, suddenly regretting bringing it up. “I Googled you.”

Nathan’s lips curve slightly. “Is that so? And what did you find?”

I cross my arms, staring at him. “Enough to know that you’ve been featured in Most Eligible Bachelors lists, that your net worth has more zeros than I care to count, and that somehow, you have time to run multiple businesses and still show up looking like you stepped out of a GQ spread.”

He puffs out his cheeks. “Sounds exhausting.”

I narrow my eyes. “I imagine being wildly successful is tiring.”

He shrugs, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Success is relative,” he says. “I built something from the ground up, but at the end of the day, it’s just a job. It doesn’t change who I am when I go home.”

I pause.

That’s not the answer I was expecting.

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