Page 45 of The Billionaire and I

I was a billionaire. I’d reached the zenith of professional success. My father was correct that I’d never brought a girlfriend home for the holidays, or ever, for that matter. But that’s because (a) after my mother died, my house was depressing AF, and (b) I liked living a life free from attachments. Was there something wrong with that?

I heard Jenny in the bathroom. The blow-dryer was firing on all cylinders as she belted out “Hips Don’t Lie” by Shakira. I laughed as I tied my tie. My father’s words cut me, but Jenny’s determined cheerfulness buoyed me again.

I vowed to forget about the meeting with my father and enjoy the day. Jenny and I were going on that vacation, dammit. I’d deal with my dad after that.

And if he wanted to leave his vast fortune to the bitter Windsor sisters and my disgruntled ex-coach? That was his problem. It was the stupidest thing I’d ever heard, so I doubted he’d follow through on the threat. It was most likely an empty one. Still, I made a mental note to buy out the Windsor’s condo as soon as possible. I planned to enjoy having more money than them while I could.

My phone buzzed with a text from Kevin.

Your father says he expects some kind of a response from you.

He didn’t share the details of your meeting with me, so I’m not sure what he’s looking for…

…but I will say he’s as mad as I’ve ever seen him.

I know you have to keep texting me as part of your job.

But I’m not responding for the next week.

I’m going on vacation—I’ll deal with him later.

Consider yourself sent to spam

I hoped that I wouldn’t get Kevin fired. My father was notorious for shooting the messenger. Still, Kevin had worked for the old man for years and remained relatively unscathed or, at least, employed.

I decided it wasn’t my problem. My father was mad that I’d hired an escort. He was worried that my arrangement would somehow impact our family’s reputation.

Those things were his problem, not mine.

My father was a lot of things, but reckless wasn’t one of them. He was bluffing about my inheritance. He had to be.

I refused to think about it any further.

I focused on Jenny singing in the bathroom, then got back to the business of tying my tie.

Jenny steppedout of the bedroom with the gown on. It was strapless, a greenish-blue, fitted precisely to her curves. As promised, she’d swept her into an elegant updo. The hairstyle showed off her jawline and impossibly gorgeous face. She was so pretty, it almost hurt to look at her.

I put my hand over my heart. “Babe. You look incredible.” Why the hell did I feel tears welling in my eyes?

She beamed at me. “You look real nice too, Cole. Real nice.”

We both stood there awkwardly for a moment. Some sort of heavy feeling swelled in the room, a palpable energy, but I didn’t know what it was.

“I have a little something for you,” I told her.

“You already bought me this dressandthe shoes,” Jenny started to argue.

“That’s right, and there’s more. Because I want to spoil you.” I grabbed her hand and led her back to the bedroom.

She eyed the bed, and I chuckled. “The surprise is not my dick, Jenny. My dick’s tired. Very tired.”

She laughed, the honking sound I’d come to love. “Okay, Coley. I wasn’t sure. You’re a machine, ya know?”

“Oh, I know.” But I was painfully aware that I was human, not a machine—as evidenced by my nerves thrumming. I pulled the small, wrapped box from my dresser. “This is for you.”

“What is it?” She carefully took the gift from me.

“A surprise.” I watched as she gently removed the wrapping paper as if she feared ripping it. When she opened the velvet box, her jaw dropped open.

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