Page 30 of The Renegade Billionaire
He shrugs her off, picks up a casserole dish, puts a scoop on his plate, and passes it to the right.
Everyone else takes that as a cue to do the same, and before I know what’s happening, dishes of all shapes and colors are making their way around the table.
“What are you doing here for six months?” one of Pops’ friends asks, but I’m not sure who. Everyone is running together at this point.
“I’m on sabbatical. Just regrouping and figuring out what direction I want to take my company in going forward.”
“What kind of business?” Savvy asks, and all heads turn in my direction. Didn’t she already ask me what I do? They don’t mess around with their inquisitions.
“Um, marketing mostly. That’s where my heart is.” It’s only a partial lie. I do have an entire marketing department, but the last thing I need anyone knowing is just how much money I come from or that I’m one ofthoseMontgomerys.
“What does that?—”
“Guys,” Madison interrupts. “Let’s eat before it gets cold, okay?”
Blessed silence falls over the table for thirty whole seconds.
“Was this your destination, or did you just land here?”
“What do you plan to do for six months?”
“Can you afford to just sit on your ass all day?”
“Did you max out your credit card to pay for a six-month stay?”
And those are the easy questions. My mind is spinning in a way even the most seasoned of public relations personnel wouldn’t have been able to control.
Maybe I am in over my head here, because I think I just got my ass handed to me by three old men and three guys I think have all dated the woman to my right.
And the only part of it that I care about is who’s dated Madison.
“Just so you know, Pops is messing with you to see how you’ll react,” Madison whispers. I inch closer to her, drawn in by her heat, her kindness, her. “Savvy dated Beau. Then, years later, I had dinner with him to help him plan a proposal that never happened, and Pops counts that as a date.” She’s a mind reader. “He’s probably also told you I’ve dated everyone I ever went to the movies with, sat next to, or talked to on the phone. It’s all to see how you’ll react so he’ll know what to watch for. He’s done this since I came to live with him.”
“Why?”
“He’s hellbent on marrying me off before he dies.”
I spin to face her. “Is he ill?”
She laughs and tucks her hair behind her ear. Even her fucking neck is delicate, and why I’m noticing this shit is freaking me out a little. “He’s going blind in one eye—that’s whyhis depth perception is off—but otherwise he’s as healthy as he’s ever been. He’ll probably be here for another twenty years.”
“Huh,” I say as I mull over her words. “So, are you saying he thinks I’m a potential suitor?”
She covers her mouth to hide a laugh. “Suitor? How old are you?”
“Thirty. So, does he?”
She sighs and glances around the table. “If Pops has anything to say about it, every eligible bachelor is a suitor.”
“And what about you? What do you want?”
She turns her gaze on me, and I swear to Christ, all the noise of our tablemates becomes muted.
“I don’t know anymore.” The sadness in those four words makes my chest ache.
Before I can respond, she stands. “Ready for dessert?” she asks no one and everyone.
A chorus of yeses goes up. I start to rise, but Clover pats my arm. “Sit. We’ll help her.”
