Page 27 of Christmas With A Billionaire

“What’s that?”

“Why haven’t you answered about that second date?”

My pen stilled on the contract. “Marcus...”

“Is it because of him?”

“It’s complicated.”

“It doesn’t have to be.” He sat forward. “I like you, Autumn. I think we could be good together. Simple, straightforward.”

“You’re right - it could be simple,” I met his eyes. “Which is why I need to be honest with you. You’re an incredible man, Marcus. Any woman would be lucky to have you. But my heart isn’t available. So unless you want to be friends, I’m unsure where a second date would take us.”

He nodded slowly. “I suspected as much, but a man can hope, can’t he?” A small smile touched his lips.

“I suppose so. What exactly were you hoping for?”

“Something more than friendship. And I still do. It’s okay if your heart is not available now. Who knows what the future holds?”

I stared at him and tried to figure out how to let him know that my heart would never be available to him. But was that true? Sure, something was going on beyond the scope of friendship between me and Tyson that needed to be addressed. But that certainly didn’t mean my heart would never be available to others. Tyson and I had yet to confirm or deny anything. Maybe I was getting ahead of myself. And with that in mind, I smiled, nodded, and didn’t offer a rebuttal.

Marcus gathered the contracts with careful movements, stood, and adjusted his cuffs. “I’ll have my team revise these contracts and send them over tomorrow. We should still work together on this - the artists deserve our best efforts.”

“I’d like that.” I walked him to the door. “Thank you for understanding.”

After Marcus left, I returned to the pile of work on my desk, but Denise’s artwork kept drawing my attention. Her pieces deserved careful consideration for placement in the Benefield. I checked my watch—it was just past four. I could head over to the building and start mapping out where each piece might go.

My phone buzzed with a text.

Tyson:“I’m working late at the building tonight and need your help with some things. Are you available?”

My pulse quickened as I typed back:“I plan to come by. I need to work on placement for Denise’s pieces.

Tyson:“Great minds. I’ll bring dinner.”

I gathered Denise’s portfolio and my notes, trying to focus on the professional aspects of the evening ahead. But my mind kept drifting to Sunday night, to that kiss, to the way Tyson’s hands had felt on my body.

I told myself tonight would be about work, about the project, and about the artists who counted on us.

But as I packed my bag, I let my hair down from its tight bun and reapplied my lipstick internally, hoping for more.

Chapter 11

Autumn

The Benefield Building was quiet in the early evening. Most of the construction crews were gone for the day. I used my key card to enter through the side door, my heels clicking against the marble floors as I made my way to the main gallery space. The renovations were nearly complete here - crown molding gleamed against fresh paint, and track lighting cast warm pools across the walls.

I spread Denise’s portfolio across a worktable, losing myself in the stories she told. This piece would draw people in from the street. That one would make them pause on their way to the elevator. Another would remind them of home as they returned from a long day.

“Beautiful work.”

I didn’t turn at the sound of Tyson’s voice. I’d known he was there - had felt his presence the moment he entered the room. “She’s incredible. Raw talent like this needs to be seen.”

His footsteps drew closer, and warmth crept up my back. “Like someone else I know.”

Now I did turn. He’d changed from his usual suit into dark jeans and a black sweater that emphasized every sculpted inch of his six-foot-five frame. He carried takeout bags that filled the air with the scent of Thai food.

“Hungry?” he asked.

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