Page 99 of The Reluctant Billionaire

‘No. You need to hear this. Aide, sweetheart, the more you give, the more people will take. Even me. I gave you a sob story and now I feel horrible, but I would have thought you’d have the commonfuckingsense’—she taps her temple pointedly with her other hand—‘to know when to say no. You should have said no. You should have told me it wasn’t your problem. You had somewhere to be with your lovely girlfriend, and it wasn’t fucking here. Got it?’

It’s incredibly frustrating when you try to do the right thing and everyone gives you a hard time over it. ‘But you needed me,’ I say, trying to be patient.

‘Nope.’ She shakes her head. ‘Wrong answer. Because it was not your problem. You’ve already funded the whole bloody party. You need to learn to say no, boyo. Otherwise everyone in this godforsaken world will keep on asking you to jump, and you’ll keep on askinghow highlike a total fucking idiot.You need to learn. To say no. Because everyone will always want a piece of you, and that includes us lot and your fancy business friends.’ She pauses. ‘And most definitely your family.’

I go rigid.

‘Yep,’ she insists. ‘While I’m telling you things you don’t want to hear, I’ll tell you this. That brother of yours is a useless, freeloading piece of shit, and Veronica, God bless her, has had a shitty time of it and still leans on you far too much.’

I go to protest, but she holds up a hand. ‘As do I. We’ve all got so used to being taken care of by you, Aide dearest, because you’re very good at it. But we forget, because you’re so loyal and hardworking and never complain, that we’re taking the piss, basically.’

‘You’re not,’ I say hoarsely. ‘None of you are. I’m glad to do it. It’s important to me.’

‘I know it is.’ She nods. ‘But, for once, you should go and look after number one and that lovely girlfriend of yours.’

‘Thank you,’ I say, and I mean it, because even if it doesn’t change anything, hearing the words, knowing my efforts are seen and appreciated, that I’ve helped someone, makes a massive difference. ‘But I’m here now, so let’s forget it, okay? I’ll make it up to Lotts. She’ll have the time of her life, so don’t worry about her.’

‘Oh, but I do worry,’ Judy says, ‘because her boyfriend is too fucking stupid to worry. You know Davide de Luca’s going to be there? You think these Hollywood sleazeballs won’t be all over her like a rash? And she’ll be feeling rejected, and lonely, and maybe in need of some comfort from a nice-looking film star who has enough of a brain to know a good thing when he sees one…’

She tails off and purses her lips at me with her signature unimpressed look.

I have to say, it’d wither a lesser man.

‘Come on, mate,’ she says, when I remain outwardly impassive. ‘Lotta won’t cheat on you, more’s the pity, because you don’t deserve her. But shewillmiss you, and if you want any future with her, that has got to be more important than always being here whenever anyone wants a bit of you.

‘So I’m going to make it crystal clear, because you’re obviously more of a thicko than I thought. The only person you have an obligation to this weekend is Carlotta.So go and get her.’

‘But what would you do?’ I ask, my mind starting to whirr with possibilities.

‘I will get on the volunteers WhatsApp group and give them an even bigger sob story than I gave you,’ she says. ‘And I’ll pin someone down. One of the cooks at the school will probably do it—they’re always happy to make a few bob on the side.’ She gives me a pointed look. ‘You’re paying.’

‘Obviously,’ I say. I spread my palms on the table, looking at her with dawning hope, and astonishment, and not a little emotion, because I feel like I’ve been set free.

Absolved.

It’s the strangest sensation.

And suddenly I cannot wait to see Lotta.

‘How am I supposed to get there?’ I ask.

She looks up from her phone. ‘Jesus Christ. I’m trying to organise this fucking party. Don’t you have a jet on speed dial or something?’

‘No,’ I say. ‘They’re awful for the environment.’

She rolls her eyes and returns to her texting. ‘You are by far the most disappointing billionaire I’ve ever met. Make some calls. Go on. Shoo.’

38

LOTTA

Not only am I at one of the most iconic restaurants the past seven decades have produced in France, but I’m being chatted up by an actual sex symbol.

Like, a guy who’s been voted GQ’s Sexiest Man Alive.

Davide de Luca, groom Josh Landers’ best buddy, Hollywood superstar and delicious male specimen from the top of his tousled dark head to the tips of his loafer-clad toes, is making it abundantly clear that the only dessert he’s interested in later tonight isme.

And what do I feel?

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