Page 39 of The Grumpy Billionaire
Holding his hands out to the side, he twisted, gesturing to the private beach, the mansion. “This is what happens when you put on the blinders and focus on your work.”
“And when you crush or buy out all your competitors.”
He shrugged. “Nobody notices thesecond-place finisher.”
Reid resumed walking, pulling away from me and strolling farther down the beach.
I stayed in place a few moments, watching him. I’d never known Reid as someone who clamored to be noticed. And his media-shy behavior in recent years didn’t fit with what he’d just said.
As he walked, his head was turned down, moving slowly side-to-side, scanning the area around his feet. And then he bent to pick something up. He stopped and waited for me.
When I caught up to him, he opened his hand. “Want it?”
The annoying flipping sensation in my chest became a desperate thrashing.
In Reid’s palm was a dark gray, heart-shaped stone. I used to collect them when we went on beach walks as teenagers, shrieking with delight whenever I’d find a new one.
I still had the collection in a large glass jar in my room at my Mom’s house. I hadn’t added to it in years. Partially because I’d gone to college and accepted jobs in places far from the ocean.
Mostly because I hadn’t really wanted to collect any new hearts—stone or otherwise.
I reached out and took the rock, and Reid closed his fingers on his empty palm, nothing left there but a few gritty grains of sand.
And I knew in that moment, without a doubt, why he’d turned his back so forcefully on the whole idea of true love.
It was my fault.
TWELVE
Itinerary
Mara
The two of us walked back through his immense home toward the front door.
I was already breathing easier, knowing I’d soon be back in my car and driving away. I’d made it—almostin one piece.
Now we could schedule the interview, shoot some video, and put this whole thing behind us, each going back to our separate lives.
“Well, thank you for lunch. I know we didn’t talk much about the story, but I think you’ll be fine,” I said. “It’s not live anyway. It will all be on tape, so I’ll be editing it after the shoot.”
As I grasped the doorknob, preparing to leave, Reid put his hand on the door, flattening it against the dark wood, essentially caging me with his body.
Standing this close to him, I was reminded of just how much bigger he was than me, how much more powerful he was.
In every way.
But his voice was soft, asking rather than demanding. “Wait.”
He looked down at my face, directly under his in this position. “I want to give you something before you go—it’s in my office.”
“Okay,” I said, quickly sidestepping his arm and walking back into the foyer, relieved to put some distance between us again.
Reid pointed to a sitting room just off the front hallway. “Wait in there, if you like. Have a seat—I’ll be right back.”
I took his suggestion even as I wondered what he could possibly want to give me. Maybe a list of questions he was prepared to answer? If that was the case, I’d look at it, but I wouldn’t agree to stick to it.
That wasn’t how interviews worked. Anyway, if he tried to go by a memorized script, he’d come across as robotic or wooden. Neither of us wanted that.
