Page 129 of The Billionaire's Fake Fiancée

“I have to go back and manage my team,” I say.

It’s the truth, and I can see from Gail’s expression she expected it. Sometimes you have to be on site with your team, in the office with the benefit of instantaneous communication.

“I’m sorry, I really am,” she says.

“I want you to know that Tabitha and I enjoyed ourselves. I wouldn’t have traded this time for the world,” I tell her, and I’m being honest. “Thank you for inviting us.” I stand. “I also want you to know, Rex Capital has three weeks left to shepherd your funds, and I’m going to do everything I can to restore the balance before the handover.”

“It won’t change anything,” Marvin says.

I don’t dignify his idiotic comment with a response. I don’t need a reason to end things right for a client, and Gail knows it.

“There’s a small airport on Fincher Island. We’re in the vicinity. And of course my chopper is yours,” she says. “And you tell that fiancée of yours to bring her business plan to me when she’s ready.”

“Thank you,” I say.

“You’re a good man,” she says.

The plane rideback is an unending blur of bad news. The markets run on emotions every bit as much as they run on numbers, and things are feeling wild.

My people are in the saddle, but I need to be there at the front of this thing. I was serious about what I said to Gail—I smooth out the valleys, and this is a pretty dramatic valley for all of my clients. They trust me to protect and build their assets. I feel like Gail would’ve been happy to trust me too if she hadn’t been steered into this thing by Marvin and Wydover. I’m sure they’re working together.

I suppose it doesn’t matter, now.

Tabitha’s playing some kind of game on her phone on the party side of the plane.

It seems like ages ago that I was explaining the sides of the plane to her and suggesting that she stay on her side and not bother me. Now I’d do anything for her to sit next to me while I work. She wouldn’t have to say anything; just her silent presence would mean a lot.

During a lull in the action, I go back there. She’s wearing dark leggings and some sort of tunic thing, and she’s stretched out on the couch.

“How’s it going?” she asks.

“A lot of fires to put out,” I say.

She nods. “How’s Tokyo?”

I sit next to her. “Hanging in there.” I settle a hand over her shin. “Looking forward to wearing bright colors again?”

“So forward,” she says, voice low and dramatic.

I reach back and shove the pocket door closed. “It’s not your fault. It really isn’t.”

“Thanks,” she says, putting aside the phone. “So like,canyou put out the fires?”

“No, but I can control the burn. I’ll probably be at this for the next forty-eight hours.”

She nods and turns her attention to the window. The sky is robin’s-egg blue out there, but it’s raining in the city.

“She loves your idea,” I tell her. “She told me to have you send her your plan.”

“I guess it’s good to know she’s that into it,” Tabitha says sadly—sadly because she can’t work with Gail. The fake fiancée lie would come out. It was bad enough that Clark committed me to that lie—it’s not as if I’d be working day-to-day with Gail if I got her account; I probably wouldn’t even see her more than once a year.

But a startup is an everyday thing, a close relationship. Two women shoulder to shoulder, sharing meals and late nights.

“You know, if we were dating, the fiancée thing wouldn’t be such a lie,” I say.

“Rex,” she says. “The answer’s the same.”

“We have three more days on the contract,” I remind her.

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