Page 69 of Most Eligible Billionaire

“Did I burn it out like you said I would? Wait, don’t answer that. Just tell me about winches.” I hate how tiny and scared my voice is. I really just need him to be talking. “Start at the beginning. The history of winches.”

“Are you being sarcastic?”

I press my fingers to my forehead, feeling so messed up and hating the silence. “I’m being sarcastic, but also I want you to.”

He seems thoughtful in the silence. He takes my hand, warm and cozy in his. “I have something better to tell. My secret.”

“You have a secret?”

“How I do the names.”

I look up at the outline of his head in the dark. “How?”

“I took a class in memorization techniques. You can’t say anything. I don’t ever want our employees to feel like a number.”

“You took a class? That’s commitment.”

“It means a lot to people, and as the company grew, it got harder and harder. So I took the class. I know it sounds a little intense, but people…they see me in a certain way, and I don’t like to let them down.”

“Wow,” I say. “You make it look so easy. You make it look so easy to be you.”

He huffs out a quiet little laugh. Shifts my hand in his. “Anyway, everybody gets a special visualization location. If somebody is named Mike, I imagine him on a stage singing with a microphone. Clarence is in an orchestra playing a clarinet. Dirk is in dirt.”

“What about Fernando?”

“Are you serious? ABBA.”

“Like it’s so obvious.”

“Isn’t it?”

“What did you use for me?”

“I’m not telling.” I hear the smile in his voice.

I widen my eyes. “Come on.”

“Nope. Sorry.”

Playfully, I shove at his shoulder. I kiss his cheek. I nip his earlobe. “Please,” I beg.

“Nope.”

“Hmmph. Well I’ve got one foryou, Henry. For the name Henry. And you won’t like it.”

He says nothing.

“You won’t like it. Not. At. All,” I add. Then it hits me. “There are thousands of employees! You remember all their names?”

“Only the local ones.”

“That’s more than a thousand,” I say. “That’s…intense.”

“Once I started it, I felt like I had to keep it up.” A thread of weariness winds through his words. He makes it look easy to be him. Doesn’t mean it is.

More hammering from below. “How long until we’re out?”

“I don’t know. Between ten minutes and an hour.”

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