Page 75 of How to Blow It with a Billionaire

“Of course not.”

“Are you sure it’s not just personally convenient to tell me that?”

“Not at all. It’s never convenient to commit to a course of action that is limiting.”

I pulled a pouty face. “I can’t tell whether that’s reassuring or not.”

“The truth is rarely reassuring. Which is rather my point.”

I…didn’t have an answer to that. Damn it.

“My mother won’t be upset,” he went on. “She understands that I have many demands on my time.”

Frankly, she sounded terrifying. I mean, all I knew about her was that she organized charity auctions—an act of moral carbon offsetting if ever there was one—and that her children were Caspian and Ellery. Because, y’know. I adored both of them but I’d be kind of worried if I’d raised them.

Also, while it was super nice that Caspian wanted to be with me, I was getting increasingly…not insulted, exactly. But it rankled, somehow, the easy way he was willing to pass me off as work. Not that I actually wanted him to declare me like he was going through customs, either. Urgh. Logic and me: not the bestest of buddies.

“Okay,” I said. “But what about the people with cancer or the kids in Africa?”

“What about them?”

“Well, this auction is for something, isn’t it?

“Bellerose handles my philanthropic concerns. And I assure you, they are substantial.”

I drew my feet up and hugged my knees—since it was clearly the only hugging likely to be happening for a while. “Very much not the point here.”

“Then please enlighten me. Because I was rather under the impression you wanted to spend time with me.”

“God. I do,” I wailed. “I really do. But I feel incredibly weird about being the reason you’re not going to do something that would help people who…well…need help.”

No answer from Caspian. Unless you counted the way his fingers curled tightly against his knee.

I felt awful from about six different directions at once. “You can see where I’m coming from, right?”

“I can.” He reached up and flipped on the intercom. “Change of plan, Lloyd. To the Sheldrake. And quickly, please.”

Wait. What was happening? I slithered along the seat as the limo swung round. Was he going to make me sit in the car like a puppy while he went to a society party? I opened my mouth to say, well, I wasn’t sure what, but Caspian looked so forbidding that all my words dried up on my tongue.

And so we just sat there in the worst silence.

Great. I’d spoiled my own homecoming. But Caspian was kind of being a dick too. Not that mentioning it to him was going to improve the situation. I wished I could turn back time to the holding and the kissing—except, nothing would change. I’d still get squicked out. Because while Caspian wanting to cast the world aside for me had the potential to be incredibly exciting, on this occasion it was simply selfish. And in the ugliest possible way.

I didn’t want that for him. Or me. Or whatever us we were.

A glance out of the window revealed lots of Georgian geometries: pale, rectangular buildings, bristling with columns and pediments. Which probably meant Mayfair. Ho hum.

The Sheldrake Gallery—should I have heard of it? I had a feeling the answer was yes, but I didn’t dare google—was a lanky, white-fronted place, its windows shining brightly, and the pavement outside thick with reporters and people in black tie.

The limo drew to a halt. Caspian eased past me and stepped elegantly out of the door the moment the chauffeur opened it for him.

I…sat there like a sad lemon.

“Come, Arden.”

Normally, I would have been pretty into Caspian commanding me to come. Right now? Not so much. “W-what?”

He held out his hand to me.

---