Page 106 of Most Eligible Billionaire

I almost don’t comprehend it. She’s taking theone night, no rolesthing seriously. Treating this as a hookup. It defies my understanding of the universe, like water swirling the wrong way down the drain.

I spent most of my dating career enforcing hookup rules. I recognize it when I see it.

Three words: No. Fucking. Way.

I set my fingertips to her chin with the gentle touch that gets her hot. I brush a kiss onto her lips. “Why not extend it?” I say. “Vacation holiday. Who says we can’t extend it? Nothing intruding.”

Her pulse bangs in her throat. “Just for the record, things will be set right.” She watches my eyes. It’s important to her that I get that. It feels right to trust her on that.

“I’m not worried about that. I take you at your word. I'm not talking about the company, I’m talking about this.” I lower my voice. “You know you want to. We’re in this far. Let’s keep it going. All the complications. Screw it all. Three more days.”

This gets her thinking about it.

“We leave the whole spiderweb of our lives behind,” I say. “We leave it here.” I kiss her again. “Or, actually, in the limo.”

“I can’t leave Carly.” She puts her hands in her lap. “Not for a weekend. I mean, she’s sixteen. She would probably be fine. She’d love me to leave her with the place to herself but—”

“I didn’t mean just you, I meant both of you,” I say. “I’d love to meet her and have her up with us. The best beach is just a few blocks away. We have a full staff. She can have her own room. We could leave Friday, early.”

I can tell she’s thinking about it. “The traffic....”

“Right,” I say. “If only I owned a strange machine with a propeller on the top of it that could fly right over cars and buildings. Oh, wait, I do.”

She grins. “Tell me it’s not blue.”

“It’s blue.”

She studies my eyes, as though she’s not sure whether to take me seriously. What’s going on? Am I pushing things too fast?

She pulls out her phone, swipes around, then groans. “Carly has two day-long can’t-miss dates to run lines with her girlfriend,” she says. “They’re trying to get leads in the fall production. I forgot they carved those out for this long weekend.”

“Have her bring her girlfriend. Trust me, we have the space.” I trace the shell of her ear. She’s caving.

“Of course, they might not get much studying done. Two of the guys from One Direction have rented the place next to mine. They might be rehearsing for some kind of duet tour. It could be distracting.”

Her jaw falls open. “Seriously?”

“Would I joke about something like One Direction?”

“This feels like blackmail,” she says. “If I don’t say yes and she finds out, she’ll literally kill me.”

“That would be terrible,” I say.

Twenty-Seven

Henry

Carly has Vicky’s laugh,Vicky’s eyes, and definitely Vicky’s spirit.

But while Vicky has brown hair, Carly is a fiery redhead. It’s amazing to see them together, to see Vicky in girl mode, laughing and pointing with Carly and her sarcastic friend Bess as I take off over the city.

Carly says soothing words to Smuckers, who’s in his little case in the back and not loving the ride.

We land on the helipad at the estate garden house.

It’s fun to see the three of them experience the grandeur of the place, which was built in the 1920s by one of the Vanderbilts. They make me love it all over again.

Vicky goes to help the girls settle while I give instructions to Francine, the head of the staff. “I know it’s not what you’re used to,” I say to her.

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