Page 4 of The Billionaire's Runaway Bride

The media is in a firestorm of speculation, criticism, and guesses. Some claimed I was addicted to drugs. Others wondered if I was going bankrupt and wanted the insurance money. And then there’s the blogger who suggested the model I slept with had set the fire to get back at Felicity, which makes no sense at all. If the media wants to try to frame me as a playboy stuck in the middle of a torrid love affair or triangle, they’re barking up the wrong tree. I don’t do relationships, so I definitely don’t let myself get close enough to get tangled between two women.

“It doesn’t look good for you,” my lawyer says.

True. It doesn’t, but I’m confident it’s not as bad as they’re making it out to be either. This isn’t the first time I’ve run into a bit of bad publicity or generated a bad reputation. I love women but I don’t commit. With my wealth as CEO of Thatcher Metal Works, I’m loaded and living it up. And why shouldn’t I? My father ran the company just fine with the same lifestyle. Sure, he passed away too soon and very suddenly, but he never missed a party and still led Thatcher Metal Works—TMW—fine.

And I will, too.

“The company won’t suffer,” my lawyer adds.

I grin at him, hearing what I already knew. Naturally, TMW would survive any bad news I personally receive or face. Because that’s just it: this firestorm is personal, not related to business. While I’m the head of the company, it’s not like I’m the head of it. My great-grandfather began TMW back in the Gilded Age and it’s been passed from one patriarch to the next. Even though the leadership has always gone through the generations, the corporation is so large and successful that it’s truly a team effort. My indiscretions won’t tank the company.

“Could he be voted off as CEO by their investors?” my publicist asks.

“No.” My legal eagle shakes his head. “They can’t. However...”

“Yes. However,” my publicist adds as both of them look at me seriously. “It may be a good time to lie low for a while. Just let everything blow over. Sooner or later it’ll be somebody else who’s getting roasted or being accused of infidelity.”

I scoff. “I still can’t see how she can claim I wasn’t faithful when we weren’t exclusive to begin with…”

My lawyer shrugs. “Classic case of he said, she said. Or maybe you’re right. Maybe she’s just trying to mess with you for a paycheck somehow. Wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” I agree.

“I think we have a few options,” my publicist says. “I’ve gone ahead and looked at some locations where you could stay out of the public’s eye and relax.”

I lower my foot and shift in my seat. “Hide, you mean.”

“Basically.” At least my lawyer can be blunt.

“Well, what am I looking at?” I suppose the family properties are out. Most of the paparazzi know where those are. If I’m such a hot ticket that everyone is gossiping about, none of those locations will be private and keep me out of the public’s eye.

“Jetting off to the Caymans?” my lawyer asks.

“No. I think taking off to a foreign island might give the wrong impression.”

I furrow my brow. “How so?”

My publicist clears his throat before answering. “Seeing as you just suffered one of your houses burning to the ground, you’d be leaving quite a mess behind. That runs the risk of anyone interpreting your absence as not caring, about you being dismissive of such a loss.”

“Dismissive?”

My publicist nods.

“What else?” my lawyer asks. “Where else could he hang out for a while? Somewhere clear of women and drama.”

“I’d recommend a mountainous retreat, something near ski resorts. Since it’s summer and it’s the off season, it’ll be quiet in the area.”

I rub my chin, considering his idea. A ski resort? Off season? It will be a ghost town. What do those places even do at this time of the year?

“It likely won’t be busy at all…”

I sigh. “Which means it’ll be boring.” I’m a city guy. I’ve lived in New York for most of my adulthood. While I travel often, I prefer the bustling, never-sleeping city over the country. Or, in this case, I prefer the city to the mountains.

My publicist laughs. “Don’t look at it like it’s a sentence or imprisonment. All I mean is that if business is slower, you’ll have fewer chances of someone recognizing you. That implies that you can move around freely.”

“So, I won’t be holed up in some small ski cabin.”

“Right.” He smiles. “What do you think?”

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