Page 4 of Billionaire Romantic
“Not yet.” When Cash is in one of these moods, he won't accept anything other than getting the deal done. “I say we go in with a strong offer, “ he says. “One they can’t refuse.”
“If they’re in that much of a bind, we should start low,” Colton suggests. “They might take any reasonable offer that comes along.”
“I don’t want to be outbid,” Cash insists.
I’m aware of their ongoing conversation, but for a few minutes, I say nothing. I’m distracted by the decision I made this morning, which feels like a black cloud casting its dark shadowover my future. It’s kind of heavy to basically have given up on true love. I always thought it would just…findme. In a lightning-strike, out-of-the-blue kind of way that felt like it was meant to be.
No such luck.
And my current dry spell is making me feel like I might throttle someone and/or spontaneously fucking combust.
I take a deep breath, exhaling slowly. And non-obviously.
It’s good. Everything’s fine. I’m resolved now. I’m doing it.
I’m going to…do something. Hunt down the most desirable option, then I’m going to get down and fucking dirty until I can find some sense of relief—with no strings attached. No feelings. No commitments. Nothing. Just pure, hot, take-no-prisoners sex. With…someone.
Who, I have no idea.
I try to look on the bright side: I’m young, hot, rich as fuck and have women calling me up every day of the week begging me for a date.
Most of them are people I’ve already let down gently, women I dated once or twice but felt nothing for. Surelysomeoneout therehas to have enough appeal to make me forget I’m not in love with them forone goddamn night.
I’ll figure it out.
But even though I’m determined now, part of me feels…sad. Losing your faith in something as important as finding the love of your life is sort of depressing.
“Yo, Noah, are you in the room?” Colton waves his hand in front of my face.
“What?”
Cash leans back and folds his arms, staring at me like he’s mildly concerned. “What’s going on with you? Are things really that bad?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I bluff. Like the question bores me.
But my brothers are nothing if not relentless. “Dude,” Colton says, “call the number on your coffee cup. Let off some steam with Emo Girl.”
I sigh. “Fuck no.”
“Okay, then one of the other six girls who were swooning over you in the coffee shop. EvenI’veheard through the grapevine that you’re some kind of beast in the sack, bro. You hardly fly under the radar in this neighborhood.”
At least Colton knows how to almost make me laugh. “Jesus, Colton.”
“What can I say, the women in this town talk. And, trust me, it’s horrendous to listen to. Either way, I’m sure you have no shortage of offers.”
I glance down at my phone. Which is, in fact, lighting up and full of text messages and ignored phone calls. The few women I do date tend to stalk me for a long time afterward. I don’t ghost women or treat them badly and apparently that’s a novelty. They beg me for months—sometimes years—to give them another chance.
My brothers don’t get this. Sure, they’re in love now, but all three of them have pasts that are strewn with broken hearts. None of them ever had a problem being an asshole.
Me, on the other hand, I just can’t bring myself to do it. The tears. The begging and the pleading. It’s downright torturous. I just can’t…hurtthem.
“This is worse than I thought,” Colton says, making a call before I can stop him. “Sloane, could you come in here, please?”
“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter.
The last thing I need is Colton’s extremely gossip-fueled assistant to be in any way consulted on my dismal love life. But in Sloane waltzes, willowy and sassy as fuck, leaving the doorwide open. “Good morning, everyone.” To Colton, “What can I help you with, boss?”
“What was the name of that dating app you were talking about yesterday?” Colton asks her.
