Page 74 of Most Eligible Billionaire

“Watch out.” He grabs my arm just in time to keep me from backing into a couple rolling a cart.

He smiles down at me, and it’s one of his fake smiles. And that’s not okay. “What’s wrong?” I ask.

“It’s nothing.”

“Tell me,” I say.

He lets me go. “It’s a wealthy guy complaint. Trust me, you don’t want to hear it.”

“I know it seems a little shabby.”

“You think that’s the problem?”

“Or…low rent.”

“Vicky,” he says. “You’re seriously apologizing for the state of the place?” he says. “It’s utterly amazing.”

Shivers swirl over me. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

“I worried you’d think it’s…I don’t know.”

“One of the little-understood things about having my kind of money is the insulation. It can be great—you’re insulated from tedious chores and time sucks, and I never have to talk to anybody who I specifically don’t want to talk to; other people talk to those people for me. But I’m also insulated from something like this. I literally can’t have this.”

“You could if you wanted.”

“Yeah, okay, technically I can, because it’s a free country, but I’d almost have to come as somebody else. Like a poser. Look at me. I could buy an airplane hangar and fill it with the best tools money can buy before dinner. I’d have to take a space from somebody who actually needs it.” He’s silent a bit. “This place is awesome. And I can never be one of the people who belong here.”

I’m stunned at how I misread him. He wasn’t feeling judgy; he was feeling jealous. Billionaire Henry Locke can’t have this. And he thinks it’s awesome.

I grin and turn to him, walking backwards. “I wanted you to like it. It’s one of my favorite places in the world.”

His eyes sparkle. “I like it a whole lot.”

Heat creeps over my neck, because I feel like he’s talking about me.

He catches up to me and takes my hand. My heart skips a beat.

“Do you have a lot of collaboration?” he asks. “Do people walk around and see what each other is doing?”

“Yeah, people hook up on projects, but it’s not as if we’re walking around alldude, please tell me about this awesome creation of yours!That would be a little dorky.”

“They hook up from the lounge,” he says.

“More often than not,” I say.

I see Latrisha’s head pop up, and I think,Yay! She widens her eyes at me. I suppress a smile. I warned her I was bringing Henry, but she still looks a little stunned.

We get to her space, and I see she’s cleaned it up. “Latrisha, this is Henry. Henry, this is Latrisha. She makes furniture out of reclaimed stuff and it’s freaking amazing.”

“Hey,” he says, taking her hand. “So nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Latrisha’s apron is full of pockets and her hair is wound in a braid on top of her head like a rope crown. She’s trying to disguise her grin, and it makes her look a bit mad. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“I think I might be familiar with one of your recent pieces, actually,” Henry says, moving over to her workbench and picking up a remnant of the polished metal she used on Smuckers’s throne. He goes on to slide his hand over a partly finished stool on her workbench. “I love this burnished effect. How did you get it?”

She explains her burnishing technique, which I realize would be good with the reclaimed posts and wood. She ends up showing him pictures. They discuss finishes so extensively, it seems like a joke at one point.

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