Page 5 of The Dancer and the Grumpy Billionaire

“What neighborhood do you live in?”

“Chevy Chase,” I say. “Shadowhurst building.”

A low whistle emits from Katharine’s lips. “Damn, dude. Aren’t those apartments like two-point-five million on the low side? I mean, Enzo pays up pretty well, but…”

“Oh, it’s…” I don’t really have an answer for her.

“Are you house-poor?” she asks in her brash way. “In over your head?”

“I’m not,” I say.

“So what’s the deal?”

“You are a nosy person, you know that?”

She makes a funny face, like,So? “And you’re not answering the question.”

“I have means,” I say.

“Why are you being so evasive?” she asks, her temper clearly flaring.

“Why do you care how I pay my mortgage?” I push back.

“Because you’re a Ukrainian-American working for an American Senator, with a pretty high security clearance. That’s why. If there’s no shady reason you can afford a multi-million-dollar apartment, I think it would be important to disclose that.”

“Oh.”

That, right there, is why Katharine O’Malley has the reputation she has.

“Oh is right. Now spill it, Kyrylo.”

“I am independently wealthy,” I say. “Not because of anything shady. My uncle, who died in the war, transferred his assets to me when the war began. He was an inventor with a lot of patents, and those patents earned him billions.”

“Billions,” she says flatly. “With a B.”

“Yes,” I say. “He knew all the men there would be asked to stay and fight, so he split his assets between me and my sister. Half of billions is still billions. So, I have the money for the apartment, okay?”

“Well, shit,” Katharine says. “First of all, I’m sorry for your loss. Second, damn. I would never have guessed that you were sitting on that kind of wealth.”

I shrug. “I am not an ostentatious person. I wouldn’t even know what to do with that much money. Right now, I don’t even know how to invest it because the amount sort of overwhelms me.”

“You could give some to charity,” she suggests.

“I could.”

She laughs, shaking her head. “Not ostentatious is a good descriptor. Unlike other people like The Demon, who is about as ostentatious with his wealth as they come. Did I tell you that he bought a custom-built Maserati last month? It is the stupidest car. I mean, it’s sexy and fast and all that, but we have a baby. Where’s the baby gonna go in that stupid car?

The Demon. This is the nickname given to her husband well before the two of them became an item. Nice man she picked, yes? I do not get it, but whatever. I am no longer jealous. It is obvious that Katharine needed someone to challenge her, and Damon Wentworth certainly does. Still, I think she can do better than the Republican Senator whose ideologies are pretty much the total other end of the spectrum from her own.

I don’t see how that could work at all, though I will admit that the Senator has made some surprise votes since getting married. He is sort of a lesser demon these days, though I would never admit that aloud.

When I see them together, there is very real love and affection, so I do know it is real. And they are adorning parents to their red-haired son, Simon.

I probably spend too much time being annoyed by Katharine’s marriage to Senator Wentworth. I made my move, albeit while tipsy, and was rebuffed. I know how to take a hint, and I would never cross that boundary with her. Still, I find myself longing to find my own person. I am just not sure where to look.

“Hey?” Katharine says, snapping her fingers in my face. “Lost in thought?”

“Oh,” I say. “Yes. Just worried.”

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