Page 106 of Resisting the Billionaire

“What?”

“To cash this and live a happy life.”

I roll my eyes. “Gabriel-”

“I’m serious. I don’t want you doing anything that puts you on his radar. He’s not a part of my life anymore. And unless he hires some P.I. or something, he should have no reason to discover we’re together.”

We agreed to keep our relationship private for now, so there’s no backlash from his father. And in a couple months, when all the commotion surrounding the infamous Bishop wedding has died down, we’ll be a little more circumspect with the people we tell. So far, it’s only Diana that’s aware of the true nature of our connection.

“You don’t think I should tear it up? Out of principle?”

“Hell, no.” He seizes it out of my hand, like he’s afraid I might actually rip it on a whim, and carefully folds it in half before placing it in the breast pocket of his polo. “We’re poor. We can’t afford to give this up out of pride.”

A chuckle escapes me. “Look at all these events lined up.” I point at my planner on the desk between us, open to my annual calendar filled with new bookings. “We’ll be rolling in dough by the end of the year.”

“Your version of big money is different than mine,” he smirks, laughing as I swat at him. “Besides, this is your money, not mine.”

“We’re business partners now. This affects both of us.”

His smile fades, face going uncharacteristically serious. “You want me to be your business partner?”

A stillness overtakes him as he carefully clasps his hands together in front of him, awaiting my answer. This isn’t the casual, relaxed demeanor he displayed earlier as he waited for me to talk about his dad. This answer means something to him.

“I’ve been watching you all week.”

His brows narrow in confusion before I elaborate further.

“I asked you to take care of the invitations for the Weber-Gonzalez wedding and you had them assembled, sealed, addressed, and in the mail by the end of the day. Two hundred of them.”

“Okay…”

“I asked if you could follow up with your friend who sent that super vague email about wanting to throw a party, and the next thing I know, you’ve got a specific invoice typed up with everything we’re doing for him.”

He opens his mouth, but I continue talking. “You helped me strategize the best arrangement for the seating chart for the Blakely-Vaughn wedding, met with Mr. and Mrs. Wilson about their retirement party while I was busy, and answered phone calls if I was unavailable. Not to mention you’re a whiz at marketing, the thing I hate doing the most. I have fifteen new bookings for the next two months alone. Solely because of you.”

He’s quiet, watching me warily.

“You’re committed to this. On top of things. And good at it.”

His cheeks flush the faintest bit, quick enough to miss if I wasn’t studying him so closely. Is he really not used to hearing praise?

“So, yeah, I want you to be my partner. I wouldn’t be doing so amazing if it wasn’t for you. And I love having you around. You’re a huge asset to Sweet Events.”

The flush this time lingers as he carefully stands, leaning over the desk to give me a long, leisurely kiss. “Thank you,” he whispers as he pulls away, the love in his eyes well worth the few moments it took to tell him what’s been on my mind all week.

Really, though, I should be the one thanking him.

“I, uh, actually have to go,” he says, heading toward the door. “It’s Friday and-”

“The children’s hospital, I know. Tell Kaia I said hi.”

“Will do. I’ll see you tonight?”

I nod, already impatient for what later’s sure to bring. Once Gabriel came over to my apartment that first night, he never left. And both of us like him being there too much to talk about him getting his own place. Us being together just… works. It’s effortless.

And after resisting him for so long, I never want to be apart again.

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