Page 142 of The Billionaire's Fake Fiancée

I watch the car pull away, reminding myself that she and Clark are friendly, that she’ll be happy to see him, and I’ll be out the door soon—maybe I can wrap it all up and not even be late. I head up the elevator, imagining different ways to describe Marvin’s face of shock. Tabitha will love the whole scene.

The idea of making her happy makes me happy.

The bonus check she’ll be getting now that the account is mine could buy her a nice condo. It’s not the building, but it’s security.

I get up there, and we get to work. Gail’s board and her team come in, followed by my team.

We’re surprisingly efficient. We hammer out new paperwork in no time. The lawyers take it to the next room, and we work on the next phase. I go back and forth between rooms, then settle in with Gail to figure out the operational stuff.

I look up at her grandfather clock at one point, and it’s as if no time has passed at all.

I dive back in, energized. I’m going to nail this transition plan and get to Tabitha with time to spare. She’s going to have a good experience on her birthday for once. And maybe she’ll agree to another date after that. I built my empire with baby steps—maybe I can build her trust back the same way. Now that I got Gail’s account, anything seems possible.

We’re just starting to sign the first round of documents when Gail’s phone buzzes. She glances at it and frowns, answers.

It’s Clark. For me. She hands it over.

“Clark?”

“God, I thought you were in an accident somewhere,” Clark says. “Why aren’t you answering your phone?”

I check my pocket. Shit—I left my phone in one of the conference rooms.

“Do you know what time it is?” he asks.

I glance over at the grandfather clock in the corner. My blood freezes to ice as I realize that it hasn’t changed. That it isn’t ticking. I pull the phone away from my ear and see that it’s ten thirty. I’m two-and-a-half hours late.

“Is Tabitha there?”

“I don’t know anymore. She was, but I’m in the car. Her friends showed up at the restaurant, and let’s just say it wasn’t cool for me to stick around. I was not everybody’s favorite person.”

I stand, swearing under my breath. “But she’s still there?”

“She was there when I left,” Clark says. “She thought you were in the hospital or something. She was worried, Rex, but then I got hold of Adrian and she said you were holed up with Gail. She’s pretty upset.”

I mumble my thanks and hand Gail her phone, dazed.

“Problem?” she asks.

“I lost track of time.” I look again at the grandfather clock.

“Oh, no—I hope you weren’t relying on that old clock. It slows in the evening and peters out between eight and nine, depending on how hard it gets wound. Sentimental…”

I send somebody for my phone, send for a car, and start gathering my stuff. “We have the big stuff down,” I say to her. I set up a proxy.

“Is everything okay?” Gail asks.

“I left Tabitha sitting and waiting,” I say, trying to keep the emotion out of my voice. I grab my phone, and I’m out of there like a shot.

I roll through my messages in the elevator down and the car ride over. There are five from Tabitha, going from hopeful to angry. The last one came in at ten. It’s one word, all caps:

SERIOUSLY?!!!!!!

There are even more from Clark. Warnings that I’m pushing it. That she’s not going to sit and wait forever. That she’s angry. There’s nothing left to chat about. She’s calling her friends.

I try her, but my call goes to voicemail. No surprise there.

I lean forward, telling the driver to hurry.

---