Page 33 of Resisting the Billionaire

Mackenzie

“Thanks for giving me a ride. You really didn’t have to.”

Gabriel looks over at me, rolling his eyes the slightest bit. “Stop thanking me. Of course I’m bringing you home.”

I face forward, still uneasy after Laura’s comment earlier. I can’t fault her, though. Objectively, it probably did appear that way from an outsider’s point of view.

But I’m obviously not marrying Gabriel. We come from separate worlds, as evidenced by my god awful apartment building we’re approaching now, the graffiti along the brick exterior doing nothing to help matters.

“I’ll see you in a few days,” I tell him, slinging my purse over my shoulder. “We’ll look at photographer portfolios and pick out someone. Serena said she didn’t care who.”

He nods, unbuckling his seatbelt as we come to a stop.

“What are you doing?”

“I’ll walk you up.”

“You don’t have to-”

I give up at his pointed glare, getting out of the car and unlocking the door to my building.

He follows close behind, his gaze shifting around like he’s expecting a mugger to pop out at any moment.

“I can take care of myself.”

“I know,” he says, no break in his stride as we start up the steps. “But I still don’t like the thought of you living here alone.”

Why should it matter to him? “I live on the top floor. No one ever robs the top floor.”

“Yes, they do.”

“Maybe in your kind of building,” I concede. The penthouse would be the most profitable. “But not in a walk-up on the seventh floor. No easy getaway.”

He doesn’t appear convinced.

“I’ve lived here four months, okay?” I tell him, suddenly defensive. “And it’s not my first choice either, but nothing’s ever happened. And once I have enough saved up and Sweet Events is steadier, I plan on moving.”

The beer cans have disappeared from the landing on the second floor, the stench of pot lingering in its place. Not much of an upgrade.

I wince at the used condom in the corner of the fifth floor landing, but hey, at least whoever used it could afford protection.

He’s silent, thoughtfully mulling something over until we reach my door.

“What if I helped you out with your business?”

My keys nearly slip out of my hold. “What?”

“Like a loan. To get you back on your feet.”

I immediately shake my head. No way. I already owe my parents money they lent me. “Gabriel, no-”

“Okay, a gift.”

I sigh. “That’s even worse.” I don’t want to be beholden to anyone.

“All right, an investment in your business. I believe in it. In you.”

My heart warms at his earnestness. “I appreciate it, but no,” I tell him firmly. “Redecorating my office was more than enough.” I still can’t get over that. Every time I sit down at my desk, I’m in love with everything he did all over again.

---