Page 92 of Rags to Royals

That must be a nice problem to have.

I study him as I think about what I already know about this man. He loves his sister and niece, he realizes that they lived a very privileged life though, despite her singleness. He waslegitimately excited about building these homes for single moms when we talked about them when we were together.

“What would this job look like?” I ask.

“As president you would, of course, help with brainstorming projects. Recruiting people, getting the word out, managing the overall vision. You’d be the primary spokesperson to the media and donors—with my help—and other organizations. You’d head the Board of Directors and you’d help get the directors in place. Figure out what committees we’d need.” He shrugs. “You’d do all of the big stuff. You’d be in charge. The boss.”

“What wouldyoudo?” I ask, my heart pounding.

“CFO. I can get the money—use my own, fundraise, whatever. Figure out financing. I’d also help talk to the towns and officials that we need to win over, deal with permits and things like that as needed. We’ll work together on every aspect.”

“So I would need to travel? Do presentations and things?”

“Definitely.”

“Oh.” I sit back, shaking my head. “No, I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not… qualified.”

He chuckles. “Of course you are. You’ll know all about it. We’ll come up with every idea together. It will be things you’re passionate about. You’ll just have to talk to people about it.”

“I’m just a mechanic,” I say. “I don’t know anything about running a foundation.”

“But you’re a single mom. That’s the biggest thing. Your story is why you’re passionate about this.”

“Your sister is a single mom. You helped raise your niece. You know what single moms need too.”

I know that sounds like a weak protest. I should want to do this. But the idea of trying to talk people into things scares me. I did that for six years and I hate the person I was then.

“I’m aguy,” he says. “A single guy with no kids of his own. Sure, I can share my story too, but who should be the face of this? A feisty, amazing woman who raised an amazing, brilliant daughter on her own. Okay,” he says, holding up a hand when I start to protest. “With her sister. But that’s the cool thing. You’re a group of kickass women who want to help other women. Just like those elephants you love, you stick together and form unshakeable bonds and protect each other for life.” He leans in and takes my hand. “I know you want to help other women that way. Let me help you do that. I have the money. Let me give it to you to spend.”

I laugh lightly. Who wouldn’t want to hear a billionaire tell themhere take my money.Better yet, this one is sayingtake my money and do something amazing to make other people’s lives better with it.

“I think an elephant should be a part of our logo, by the way,” he tells me.

Dammit. It shouldn’t be that easy, but I love that, and it does soften me even further.

“I can’t travel. There’s Mariah.”

“Mariah is almost sixteen. And you have Ruby and Greta’s family to be there for her. You can take theirhelp, Scarlett. So you can do things for you. That’s okay. And you don’t have to travel for weeks at a time. Just a few days here and there.”

He’s going to have a really great counterargument to everything I say, but I still feel the need to push back.

“I can’t—” I swallow. “I can’t go around trying to convince people to do thingsIthink they should do like that, Cian. I can’t go into communities and tell them that they should go along withourplans and ideas.”

He frowns. “That’s not what this is. Whatever we do will be projects the communities want. We’ll work with community leaders to provide things that they need.” Then it seemsunderstanding dawns on his face. He shakes his head. “We’re not going to preach to anyone. We’re not going to push this on anyone. We’re not going to tell them they have to do anything or guilt them or coerce them. We’re going to offer to help. We’ll be there with resources for whatever they need.”

My stomach twists, but I’m not shaking my head as earnestly as I was before. I spent all those years in high school trying to convince people to see things my way, to do things I wanted them to do, to put their time, money,heartsinto something that mattered to me. And I never should have done that.

But, intellectually, I know this is different and I’m overreacting. This isn’t like going out and telling people they need my father’s church or they’ll be lost and doomed.

This is different. This isgood.

But I’d believed what my father wanted and was preaching was good at the time.

I take a deep breath.

---