Page 64 of The Heiress's First Date

“I suppose it’s too late to remind people that my private life is private.”

Her jaw drops, and I can’t help but laugh.

“I guess that’s a no.”

She nods several times, a polished and professional bobblehead doll.

“You’re one of the wealthiest men in the world, Gabe. One of the youngest self-made billionaires ever. You have a high-profile best friend who you’re seen with all the time, and the two of you just bid two million dollars to date an heiress. I’d say your private life is the talk of the town.”

I turn my chair so I can stare out at the skyline.

What is King doing right now? Knowing him, he’s probably in the gym or making a protein-packed smoothie.

Whatever he’s up to, I’m willing to bet he’s not as frustrated as I am right now. He’s not having to answer to PR. And he probably doesn’t feel like a monkey trapped behind the glass at the zoo, being stared at by a classroom of kindergarteners.

But I get it. I represent the company, blah blah blah. That doesn’t mean I want my private life on the front page of every rag in town. And I sure as shit don’t want Katherine’s name or Alex’s name dragged through the mud.

My shirt collar feels extra tight.

“Is there anything I need to know? You don’t want to get caught in a circle of... untruths,” she says gently like I’m a toddler that needs coaxing.

Lies.

She means lies.

I know what she’s getting at, but that’s none of her business. Full stop. I put my foot down at sharing my sexuality with anyone I’m not dating.

My phone vibrates atop my desk.

Turning back, I glance at the screen, and my pulse skips as I read the text from my team.

Rogers: Cort checks out. Numbers are good.

All these years, I’ve worked and built to this moment. Playing the long game, moving the chess pieces across the board to build my scrappy idea into a household name. And now, a little over fifty-one percent of Chanler & Cort is available for the taking.

Sure, the price tag is roughly the GDP of Antigua, but it’s a solid deal.

If only Henry Chanler wasn’t dead.

My jaw clenches, and I run a hand down my face.

I wish Alex was here. I know he’s only a call away, but this feels monumental. And he’s been my sounding board for so long. We’ve talked about this plenty over the last year, but still.

“Is everything okay?”

I don’t know.

A month ago, I would have said yes. It’s better than okay.

But now I’m second-guessing myself. I’m not even sure why, which gives me brutal heartburn.

“Yeah,” I lie. Popping the tab on my soda, I take a big sip. “There’s nothing you need to know about my private life.”

25

ALEX

My coffee cup is halfway to my lips when Katherine emerges from the bedroom wrapped in a white bathrobe. She looks completely at home in the opulent hotel room surrounded by luxurious fabrics in creams and golds.

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