Page 13 of The Next Door Billionaire's Deception

Okay, what am I doing?

Just being neighborly. He was kind enough to bring my package, so I’m doing something nice in return. That’s it.

Richard cocks his head, studying me. Heat creeps up my cheeks. I’m still in my robe. My hair’s a bedraggled mess, and my large slippers make my feet look like duck feet.

“No. I drink coffee. I mean, who doesn’t? But I gotta run,” he says and keeps looking backward.

Ah. Of course. I should’ve done my homework before asking my neighbor for a morning cup of coffee.

I nod in the direction he's looking at.

“You're scared she's gonna catch you flirting with another woman?”

“She? Flirting?” He shoots me a blank look. Then, he turns in the direction of his door. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about your wife.”

“Wife?”

“Wife. Girlfriend. Maybe, the mother of your kids. That one person that makes you keep looking over your shoulders when talking to someone of the opposite sex.”

He eyes me. Something lurks in his eyes – it’s not amusement. It’s something else, and I can’t place a finger on it.

“Okay. I know you do not know me, so I'll let that slide. I've got no wife, at least not yet. I'm just a hardworking fellow fending for himself.”

“Not even a woman? Like a girlfriend or something?”

He leans closer, and I move back instinctively.

“I don't think I need one in my life yet.”

“I see. Well, good for you.”

Celine was right. Not every good-looking guy is desperate to have any woman on his arm. Although, it’s hard to believe a man as good-looking as him doesn’t have a woman in his life.

“There’s a lot of a grey area surrounding that topic. But yeah, I'm not going for the ladies. Not yet. There are other things on my plate.”

“Oh. I see,” I say again. “That’s, um, nice.”

He shoves his hands into the pockets of his dark-blue denim jeans and, again, looks over his shoulder.

“It was nice meeting you again, Melissa. I have to go so I won't run late.”

“Sure,” I smile as he turns. “Richard?” I call out.

He stops and turns toward me again.

“I've got a housewarming party, on Friday, at five. You're invited. Don't be late.”

Chapter 5

Richard

Agatheringofbusinessmenaround Brooklyn Heights is not good for me.

“Thank you for coming,” a smiling blonde lady at the door says, leaning the glass-filled tray close enough for me to grab a glass of red wine. I lower my head a bit as I grab a glass and hurry into Melissa’s apartment, the venue of the housewarming party that I can't afford to miss.

You're invited! Don't be late.

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