Page 80 of Most Eligible Billionaire

She’s searching my eyes. We’ve been laughing at the exact same things all month. If I weren’t me, I’d think the crane thing was funny, too.

She tries a smile. “A cartoon picture of Smuckers’s round little marshmallow head? Maybe not, huh?”

Do I really know her? Really?

I give her my breezy smile, the one that always fools the cameras, and I reach for my phone. I’m moving away from her.

“Kidding,” she says. “Really.”

I’m scrolling through my phone, like I might find a feel-less-screwed-up app there. They need to make an app like that.

“Come on, you think I’d do that?”

“I’m kind of a freak about that logo.”

“Wait. You think I’d do that?”

A silence. I’ve let her closer to me than any woman ever. The fake dog whisperer who inherited my birthright.

Have I been reckless?

In my gut I trust her. Automatic. But my head is ringing with what Brett said. Our own PI doubts her. I don’t know her real name.

Thousands of people depend on my leadership.

They deserve better from me.

“Oh my god. You seriously think I’d do that?”

“I don’t know, that’s all.”

Her mouth falls open. Stunned. Hurt. “How can you not know? Like I’m an enemy of the company suddenly? Like I'm outside…” She goes pale. “Oh my god.” Her phone’s ringing, but her gaze is on me. “Because, of course, you still wonder if I’m a scammer.”

“It’s not like I’m standing herewondering…”

“I told you things would be right. Isworeto you. I meant it. Oh my god—I’m so stupid.” She pulls out her phone and answers. I can tell it’s her sister from her tone. “I’m coming.”

For once I don’t know what to do. “Let me give you a ride, at least. Let’s talk.”

“I’ve had enough of your talk.” She’s texting.

“What are you doing?”

“Calling a Lyft,” she snaps. “There’s one two minutes away.” She puts away her phone and heads to the other side of the place where Latrisha is.

“Vicky.” I go along. “I’ll give you a ride.”

“Not happening.”

Latrisha is there. Glaring at me. They exchange glances that probably contain girl communication about what a jackass I am.

Vicky grabs her purse, spins around, shoves past me, and walks toward the red exit sign.

I follow.

She turns at the door, looks me in the eye. “I’m asking you to not follow.”

The way she asks, it’s important to her. I fold my arms, teeth grinding. There are things I need to say, but I don’t know what.

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