Page 109 of Where We Bloom

“Let me talk to the manager.”

“No. You’re not buying me that bag, billionaire.”

“Billie. Give the phone to the fecking manager or salesperson or whatever.”

I hear her sigh, and then there’s jostling, and a woman says, “Yes, this is Olivia. How may I help you?”

“When the woman who passed you this phone checks out, she leaves with the Birkin she wants. If there are other things you think she’d enjoy, send them with her.”

“Yes, sir. I’m happy to help.”

After more jostling, Simon’s voice comes over the line.

“I’m back, sir.”

“If you want to keep this job, you won’t let her out of your sight again. She’s the most valuable thing in this world, and I want you to guard her like your goddamn life depends on it. Do you hear me?”

“Understood, sir.”

“Check in with me every hour.”

I hang up and walk back into the conference room. I want this day over so I can get back to my angel.

“Do you even know me? I love the hunt, and you know it.”

Fuck, I love that woman.

Chapter Twenty

BILLIE

Two things. One, I’ve never spent so much money in one day. And two, holy shit, shopping should be an Olympic sport because it isrigorous.

I’m exhausted after today’s gold medal performance, but Connor texted me thirty minutes ago to tell me he’s on his way back to his penthouse, and I’m making him dinner. I’m excited to go with him to Ireland so I can see his favorite things to eat firsthand, and maybe I can learn how to make some of them. But tonight, he’s getting spaghetti with salad and garlic knots, all from scratch except for the pasta. As of now, everything’s ready and just waiting for him to get back.

I whirl around when I hear the elevator ding, and when Connor walks through the doors, he looks …pissed.He’s scowling, every muscle in his impressive body tight, and the energy is intense.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Hold on, angel,” he says, holding up a finger as he dials his phone. “Get up here, now.”

He hangs up, slips his phone into his pocket, and pulls off his tie, tossing it on the couch. As he walks through the room, with those intense green eyes pinned on me, he unbuttons the top two buttons of his shirt and rolls his sleeves. The frustration and anger are rolling off him in waves.

I’ve never seen him like this. I’m not afraid of him, but I’m worried about him.

“It smells good in here,” he says. His voice is rough but gentle because he’s speaking to me, but something isnotright.

“I made dinner. What’s going on, billionaire?”

“Don’t worry about it.” He kisses my forehead, then the elevator doors open, and Simon strides inside. His face is impassive, showing no emotion, but his hands are in fists, displaying the tension he’s feeling.

What in the world is going on?

“My office,” Connor says, setting off down the hall, and Simon follows him.

I spent all day with Simon. He’s a handsome guy in his mid-thirties, built like a professional wrestler, with tattoos all over the place, even down his fingers and up his neck to his jawline. He doesn’t ever smile, and I tried hard to get him to grin at me.

He never did.

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