Page 57 of How to Fall for the Secret Billionaire
“I want to make a transfer,” I say. “Anonymous.”
My accountant doesn’t even pause. “I’m ready as soon as you send the account details.”
“Good.” I end the call.
I already have the inn’s account number. It’s on their website. I send it over without a second thought, together with the amount of money I want sent, then I toss the phone on the bed and sit at the edge.
It’s not about money.
It’s about that look on Margot’s face when she finally breathes—really breathes. When she smiles like nothing’s chasing her. When her shoulders soften and she forgets, even for a second, how heavy the world feels.
That look is peace.
And I’d pay anything to see it stay.
MARGOT
Cal meets me in the kitchen the next morning at ten.
The moment he walks through the door, I can’t help it—I laugh.
“Why are you dressed like you’re going on an interview?”
He grins, straightening the collar of his button-down. “I want to make a good impression.”
“Cal, please. Impressions have been made since last week.” I shake my head, still smiling. “Come on. Let’s go.”
Cal laughs and follows me out the door. As we step outside, I glance down—and immediately catch sight of his shoes. I haven’t seen them before. Black leather. Polished. Serious. They belong in a conference room, not on the gravel path leading to my parents’ orchard house.
My gaze lifts—slowly—and sweeps over the rest of him. Crisp gray button-down tucked into tailored black pants. He looks completely out of place in the most intentional way. Like hecould run a board meeting and charm a room full of executives before breakfast.
But he’s walking beside me, smiling like he has nowhere else he’d rather be.
I realize then that I find him so attractive in businesswear just as much as I like him in casual—maybe more.
The thought sneaks up on me, warm and a little dangerous. I look away quickly, hoping he doesn’t notice the way my cheeks heat. I like how he took his time to make sure he looks good. It’s just breakfast, but the fact that he treats my invitation as something more important makes my heart smile.
Cal nudges me lightly with his elbow. “I love your dress,” he says, voice warm. “It looks beautiful on you. You look pretty.”
This time, there’s no stopping the blush. I flick my hair over my shoulder, trying to hide my face as I mumble, “Thank you.”
Cal chuckles, like he knows exactly what he just did.
The orchard house isn’t far—just around the corner—but walking beside Cal, it somehow feels like a marathon. Every step is slow and strange and a little too aware.
Being around Cal is… calm. Familiar, like an old friend, which is odd because I’ve never been the type to easily make friends. But with him, there’s no pressure to be anyone else. I enjoy his company more than I’ll ever admit out loud. Especially our little nighttime tea “parties.” As silly as they are, after every cup, I sleep better. Deeper. Lighter.
Last night, though, something was different. There was a tension hanging in the air—not heavy or awkward, but quiet andcharged, like he wanted to say something but didn’t. And for me… something shifted.
Seeing him out there by the circuit breaker, it did something to me. He didn’t know I was back. He wasn’t doing it to impress me. He just… did it. Because it needed to be done. Because maybe he thought it would make my life easier.
It was sweet. Honestly, unfairly sweet.
And then came the tea. And then came Thea.
I love my sister, I do. But really, Thea? You couldn’t have picked five minutes later to emerge from your bat cave?
She’d come into the kitchen last night in search of tampons—apparently, she ran out and didn’t feel like going to the store. She left almost immediately after, but the damage was done. Cal had already said goodnight and slipped upstairs, leaving me alone with a cooling teacup and the lingering feeling.
