Page 124 of Most Eligible Billionaire CEO

“None whatsoever,” he says. “And the blackmail begins.”

“Unbelievable.”

“Derek had the misfortune of landing on fraudster Harry’s radar. And me, by proxy.”

“What an unscrupulous asshole.”

“He’s a bottom feeder,” Bryce says. “Derek should be condemned for living a lie, but he wasn’t a pedophile. Yes, he was a closeted gay man, but he didn’t touch underage boys.”

“Thank God.”

“Unwilling to leave any stones unturned, I also requested the investigators get to the bottom of Jayden Whitfield’s allegations. He never told the blogger who interviewed him Derek leaked sensitive information about our clients. The blogger informed him that as long as he puts the word allegedly in front of any sentence, he can publish pretty much anything he wants.”

“That’s unethical! People’s lives and reputations are at stake.”

“Damn right. The authorities wanted to make sure they had their T’s crossed before apprehending Harry. The low life was arrested and taken into custody an hour ago.”

“Your nightmare is over.”

“It is, but Harry’s is just beginning. I’m going after that reprehensible blogger. Then, Harry. By the time I’m done with those two idiots, they’ll wish their mamas had kept their legs closed. I’m not going to get any financial compensation from this. I doubt these guys have a lot of money. That said, once I’m done suing them, I’ll get the satisfaction of leaving them with only their dirty underwear to their names.”

Don’t mess with Bryce Van Der Linden if you know what’s good for you.

“Your name is cleared?”

“My PR team is working on it. It’s a matter of days before my name, my company’s name, and Derek’s are cleared.”

“That’s incredible news, Bryce.”

“It is. It’s over, beautiful. It’s freaking over! Let’s move onto the real reason why I called. I’m flying back to New York tonight to be with you—”

“I’m not in New York.”

“Where the fuck are you?”

“I’m in Puerto Rico.”

He growls.

Someone isn’t happy.

“When are you coming back?” he asks.

“In three days.”

“I don’t like it, but I can live with that.”

Sorry, Mr. Billionaire, but my pockets aren’t lined with gold.

“When you land in New York, buy a ticket to Vegas,” he says. “Don’t worry about the price. Get the first flight out—”

“I don’t have a credit card.”

“You don’t?”

I do, but the ones I have are maxed out and I can barely make the minimum payment on them. No way am I willing to reveal such an embarrassing fact. “I don’t.”

“That’s not a problem. I’ll buy a ticket under your name.”

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