Page 117 of Hello Billionaire

“I can’t let this deal fall through,” he said. “People are counting on me. The new jobs this project was going to bring to West Texas... do you know how many families there were praying for something like this? And now Jason wants to cancel it.”

But what about our family?I wanted to ask.What about the three children who love to spend time with you? What about me?

But I couldn’t ask those questions. Because Gage still hadn’t spoken with his parents. It had been weeks since I’d asked him to, and still nothing. That should have been answer enough.

I got up, putting on my wrap dress to cover myself. “So that’s it,” I said, hating the quiver in my voice. “It’s over.”

He reached for my hands. “I don’t want it to be. He said the only way we could prove to the public that our relationship wouldn’t affect the business was if we got married.” His eyes searched mine. “We could go to Vegas and do it this weekend, Farrah. We’d have to move in together because it would look worse to the press if we didn’t, but I can stay in a separate room until you feel comfortable. Please, Farrah? It’s the only way for us to be together in public. I’ll do this in secret until the plant is built if I have to, but I really don’t want to.”

With each word, the acidic taste in the back of my throat grew even stronger. This was allwrong.

I pulled my hands away from his, pacing in his bedroom.

“What are you doing, Farrah?” He stood and walked around the bed to stop my pacing. “You don’t want to break up either; I know you don’t. Let’s just get married. We both know that’s where this was going anyway.”

My lips parted as I shook my head in shock. In anger. “How dare you ask me to marry you.”

His shoulders squared, his brows drawing together the only hint at his emotions. “You don’t want to be with me?”

I stared at this man. This beautiful man standing in his boxers like a model fit to be carved into a statue. Only an hour ago, I would have said he wasexactlywhat I wanted, but now I knew better.

“I was married for fourteen years to a man who stayed with me for a child he didn’t plan on having.” Angry tears stung my eyes. “The fact that you thought I wouldeverwant you to marry me to keep a business deal...” I shook my head. “It’s demeaning, and most of all, it’s cruel.”

“It’s not only for the deal, Farrah. I love you. But I don’t want to be with you in secret,” he said. “I thought this would work for both of us, a way for us to stay together.”

“It’s not a way for us to stay together. It’s a way for you to choose your business over us—over me and my family. Painting it any other way is only hurting us both.”

“That’s not what I’m doing, Farrah. I want to be with you.”

“So you would have proposed to me this weekend if Jason hadn’t said anything?”

Gage stayed silent.

I shook my head at him. “You don’t understand. My dad turned down a deal with a literal billionaire because it would take away his time with his family. But you wouldn’t stand up for me to a man who would judge a single mother?”

Gage opened his mouth to speak, but if I didn’t get the words out now, I’d never be able to speak them. Never be able to walk away.

“When I left Caleb, I promised myself I would never settle ever again. If I accept your ‘proposal’, I’d be showing my daughter that marriage is a business transaction. I’d show my sons that women are pawns to be used for financial or political gain. I’d show them that the men in their lives are there out of obligation rather than love and commitment. And the fact that you’d offer that only proves to me that you are not the man I thought you were.”

I shook my head at him, getting my purse and walking to the elevator door. I jammed my finger on the button, praying I could get inside before the floodgates opened and I fell apart.

“Farrah, don’t do this,” Gage whispered. “I didn’t want this.”

I stepped inside and pushed the button for the parking garage. “No, but you chose it.”

53

Gage

Twelve Years Ago

At Wednesday night dinner, I put the sale page for the land neighboring our family farm on the table in front of Dad. Even though I went to tech school in Dallas two hours away, I still came home Wednesday nights to spend time with my family. It was one of my favorite days of the week—a chance to see my siblings, all still in high school, eat a home-cooked meal instead of the ramen and PB&J sandwiches I lived on, a chance to be on the farm instead of in the city.

Dallas had so much to offer within its city limits, but Griffen Farms? It was the only place that had ever felt like home. And I hoped, with this plan, I’d be coming home soon. This time for good.

Dad finished chewing his steak, glancing over the paper. “I heard the Fosters were selling. Damn shame if you ask me. A family farm means something. You can’t just give up on it when you hit tough times.”

My hands were shaking with anticipation. With nerves. I’d gone over this plan at least a dozen times with my real estate mentor I worked for in Dallas. Since I started working for him a couple years ago, he’d taught me so much about growing real estate holdings, managing rental properties, and so much more. All while I helped him fix up the properties he owned and managed.

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