Page 25 of Resisting the Billionaire

I glance over at him, his sincerity the final nail in the coffin. “Okay,” I murmur, unsure how to cede control. What if he ruins everything? Runs all my clients off and makes Sweet Events look incompetent?

“You can trust me,” he says wryly, reading all my worries on my face.

Another sneeze lets loose and I grab a tissue, taking my time formulating a response. “I’ve never had anyone help before. I can’t afford an assistant or anything.”

“My services are pro bono.” He eyes the small gap between the desk and wall I normally squeeze through to sit down. Yeah, his big body will never fit through there.

I get up slowly, taking his arm as he offers it to me, wishing my nose wasn’t so stuffy so I can inhale that cologne of his. I’ve never been great at identifying scents so I can’t tell what it’s in it, but it’s rich, masculine - and something wholly Gabriel.

“What have you done in the last two days?” he asks as he leads me out to his waiting town car. “Skinny dipped in a vat of viruses?”

Ha ha.

I sink into the leather backseat of the car, my eyes briefly closing in relief. “It really just hit me last night. Hopefully, it’s only one of those twenty-four hour bugs.”

“Hopefully. So where am I taking you?”

I give him my address, catching the barest raise of his brows, but he doesn’t comment on my new part of town, instead opening up my planner to ask what the most important things are that need to be taken care of.

“Um…” I struggle to remember as the car’s rhythmic motion begins to lull me to sleep. “Call Bewitching Bridal and reschedule our appointment.”

“You were taking me to a bridal shop?”

“They sell men’s attire too.”

“Okay, what else?” He flips through the planner, turning to today’s date. “Who’s Mrs. Woods?”

“Her husband’s retirement party is next week. I just need to… need to…” I yawn loudly, the energy I expended this morning trudging into work finally catching up to me. “Finalize some details,” I finish, resting my head against the cool window.

The next thing I know, we’re in front of my apartment building, Gabriel gently nudging me off his shoulder. Oh my God, did I move in my sleep and rest on him? And is that a wet spot on his expensive dress shirt? Please tell me I didn’t drool on him.

I look up into his smiling eyes. Oh yeah, he definitely knows what I did. “Let’s get you inside.”

He helps me out of the car and leads me in after I unlock the lobby door, glancing around. “No doorman? No attendant?”

I shake the cobwebs from my head. “No.”

“No elevator?”

“Nope.”

I start up the stairs, him trailing close behind, seeing the awful surroundings through his eyes. Paint peeling off the walls, the handrail sticky in places with who knows what, the two empty beer cans we have to step over on the second floor landing.

Not exactly setting the best impression.

“What floor are you on?”

“The top.”

He groans. “Are you kidding me? Why would you do that to yourself?”

“Rent’s cheaper,” is all I say, every step harder than the last.

I’m breathing heavily by the time we reach the seventh landing, and it takes me a solid minute to fish my keys out of my purse again. I keep having to lean against the wall so I don’t fall over, and it’s not until he steadies me by the shoulders that I’m fully able to open the creaky door.

Normally, I’d be embarrassed at the small studio space, always mentally comparing it to my parents’ sprawling house in Granville, Ohio, but today, I can’t muster the energy. God only knows how his apartment looks in comparison.

“Thank you, Gabriel.” I settle on the couch, suspecting I won’t be getting up for a long time as my eyelids get heavy. “Don’t worry about the planning stuff. I’ll figure it out later. Just note what Mrs. Woods wants and send it to me. Her contact info is in the back of the planner.”

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