Page 32 of Most Eligible Billionaire

I nod. According to our PI, she’s led a quiet existence. No boyfriend.

Brett grins. “So you can play good cop and I’ll play bad cop. I’ll gather evidence and work the lawyers and keep the PI digging, and you just keep her on her back.”

I look down at my fingers around the glass, remembering the way she stared at them.

“You’re into it, right? One of New York’s ten most eligible bachelors? You could do a very good good cop. You could keep her sated until we yank the firm.”

I snort.One of New York’s ten most eligible bachelorswas a title given to me out of spite by a journalist ex. Trust me, nobody who gets a title like that is ever happy about it.

“Get her into the Henry fan club,” Brett continues. “Take her out. Charm her. Romantic picnics in the park. Billionaire helicopter rides.”

I try to imagine doing the whole picnic-blanket-and-chilled-champagne-in-the-park thing with her in a way that wouldn’t be fake or cheesy, but I can’t. All I can see is her adjusting her glasses, brown eyes peering at me hard, like,really? “No, that approach—it’s not right for her.”

“What, are you suddenly a grifter expert?”

“It’s too generic for her. The picnic thing and all that, it says,Look at me, I’m romancing you.”

“Kind of the point.”

“Vicky won’t go for it,” I say with a certainty that surprises even me. “This isn’t a woman who wants a heart-shaped box of chocolates. She’s—”

What I almost say is that she’s too good for that.

God, she’s a grifter looking for a payday. I push the scotch away. “I’ll handle her, don’t worry. She can’t give messed-up orders if she’s got a cock in her mouth.”

“There’s the good cop spirit,” Brett says. “Now, what about the press? What if they find out that Smuckers is heading up the board? That little bit of news could screw up a lot of projects. The stadium? They want an excuse to say no.”

“I won’t let anything nix the stadium deal.”

“Well, they’re looking for an excuse to say no.”

I swirl the ice in my glass, trying to think how to keep a lid on something like a toy dog controlling a billion-dollar corporation, trying not to think about Mom, because that leads nowhere good.

And then I get it. “We go public with the dog thing. Full disclosure.”

He narrows his eyes. “Not entirely tracking here.”

“What Mom did is so hosed up, who would believe it? So we make it look like a charity stunt.Oh, no! Bernadette willed her empire to the dogs. Look! The damn dog is in control and giving money to dog charities. Oh, no! Wink-wink-nudge-nudge.”

A smile spreads across Brett’s face. “Like it’s just a PR stunt.”

“Exactly. What mother would leave a company to the dog and not her CEO son?” I manage to say this without emotion. “We write an over-the-top press release. We give a big cardboard check to some dog pound. And guess who gets to be in charge of choosing the charity?”

Nine

Vicky

I take Carlyand Smuckers out to a sidewalk café where we order whatever we want without looking at the prices, and for dessert we get our favorite treat: ice cream with a stupid amount of candy in it.

“Everything’s good now,” Carly says, searching my face for confirmation.

“Def,” I say, because I want that for her, even if I don’t have it for myself.

I still get spooked when groups of people seem to be looking at me; I think they recognize me, and that they’re silently condemning me. A built-in flinch reaction.

I remember being shocked a few months back when people were looking at Carly and me down on the subway platform, and that whole hunted, hated feeling rushed over me.

Then I looked over at Carly, and she was grinning at me. She put her hand on her hip, gave me a cocky look, and said,This coat is so badass nobody can even believe it.

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