Page 10 of The English Billionaire's Obsession

She laughs, not unkindly. It’s more like she’s confused by my correction. “Silver, gray, what’s the difference?”

Thedifferenceis that gray implies old, but Thomas doesn’t seem old to me. He’s over twice my age, but he’s notold. He’s ripped and powerful, with a fierce glint in his eyes that hints at his youthfulness.

“Yeah, that’s him,” I say, ignoring her question.

The noise in the background gets quieter. Then wind rushes as though Emma has just stepped outside.

“It says he’s worth fifty-two billion dollars.”

“Emma,” I say, my breath coming quicker.

“What?”

“I don’t care about the money.”

“I’m just saying, at forty-two, that’s quite the fortune.”

I don’t point out that it would be a fortune at any age. That he’s forty-two is more interesting to me, more than twice my age. Would he ever want a nineteen-year-old?

“Comeon, Ami,” she goes on. “How can you not care about it? He’s richer than rich. This is crazy. Does he want to date or hook up or what?”

At the phrasehook up, a shard of nervousness stabs into me. Emma knows how inexperienced I am, but I don’t let her see the anxiety this sometimes provokes in me. It’s easier to present that boss-bitch, don’t-give-a-damn energy.

“I don’t know. He kissed me and then left. He also said he couldn’t stay away. That’s why he was at the house.”

“How did he even get your address?”

“I guess from Realization. He probably has access to the files or whatever.”

“Isn’t that like gross misconduct or something?”

“Maybe I should sue him.”

We both laugh at that, and then Emma gets serious. “So, what will you do if you see him again?”

“What do you think? I’m out of my depth here.”

“It depends on what you want. Do you want to hook up with a billionaire or prefer something serious? Clearly, you’ve got the hots for him.”

“How is it clear?”

“Silver, not gray. That told me everything I needed to know. You’ve got a crush.”

It feels like way more than a crush. It feels like I’ve been waiting for this man without even knowing it.

“I guess I should figure out what he wants with me,” I murmur. “I don’t get how he evenknewto show up at my place, and you’re right. If this were anybody else, I’d say it was creepy.”

“But he’s hot, so it’s not?”

“It’s not just that,” I murmur.

“What, then?”

I don’t know how to explain this to her, the certainty that struck me as soon as I looked out of my window and saw him. The ache in my chest when I think about the kiss, reliving it, the texture of his lips, the promise of the future…

Heck, what am I thinking? Thefuture?

“I don’t know,” I say. “Listen, I’m sorry. I have to go.”

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