Page 100 of Return Billionaire to Sender

He’d probably think it was hilarious—given a different set of circumstances.

I stare out the window, feeling nervous. Who am I to pull this off?

I could still say I have diarrhea. I rehearse it in my mind. But suddenly, we’ve arrived.

The Monaco Club is an upscale hilltop bistro with floor-to-ceiling windows. The front is an elegant cocktail area with lots of candles and chandeliers and green velvet furniture, and the back is a spacious dining room.

I’d be thrilled to be here if I weren’t completely freaking out.

Maybe I actuallywillget diarrhea.

We’re led to a table next to the window—clearly the best table. Malcolm introduces me to Verlaina Henry. Verlaina wears an elegant turban, plum lipstick, and some very hip-looking bracelets.

“Verlaina and I go way back,” Malcolm says.

“Way back,” Verlaina says, clasping his hand. She introduces Soren, who has white-gray hair and a linebacker’s face and body.

Malcolm gives Soren his hard-sparkle smile where his mouth forms into a gorgeous smile while his gaze sharpens on the person.

We all sit and order. There’s a small green crystal bowl on the table that contains a kind of high-end Chex mix, and I really want to empty the whole thing into my mouth, but I content myself with two dainty handfuls of it. Of course, nothing escapes Malcolm’s attention. He adds a double bruschetta plate for the table.

Our drinks come. I know it’s inevitable that the conversation will soon turn to me, and by way of preparation, I gulp half a glass of bubbly.

But what really comforts me is being with Malcolm. I feel aligned with him in a deep way, like we can get through anything together. Maybe we can.

Verlaina and Malcolm spend a bit of time catching up, which includes Verlaina informing Malcolm that she’s heard the Germantown Group is absolutely not now and never will be for sale. Malcolm simply nods, and then he smiles at me, causing something in my belly to twist with joy.

“Malcolm tells me you’re his executive coach,” Soren says suddenly.

I smile. “Yes. And I just want you to know, it’s such an honor to meet you,” I say, adding something about his last book that kind of recaps what’s on the back flap. It really did seem like it was probably a good book for the right person. I could see how executive coaching could come in handy for business leaders. Even the biggest business leader on the planet needs a confidant, a wise neutral party to bounce ideas off of. Though I am definitely not that person, and for the record, Stella would not be the person either.

“Malcolm Blackberg getting emotional intelligence coaching,” Verlaina says, like it’s the hugest joke ever.

“Yes, I’m under a court order for twenty-one hours of soft skills training.” Malcolm turns to me. “Elle drew the short straw. But I get to determine where and when that coaching happens. So why not here?”

I shake my head scoldingly. I feel like we’re this team, putting on a very specific show together.

“Ah. Court-ordered,” Soren says, like that explains everything he needs to know about me. He’s trying not to sound dismissive, but his attempt to specifically not sound dismissive makes him sound even more dismissive.

Verlaina grins. “I can only imagine how that’s going. What did you do this time, Malcolm?”

“Had a bad employee,” Malcolm says. “Threw him out on his ear.”

Verlaina snorts and turns to me with a wince. “Teaching Malcolm Blackberg emotional intelligence? I don’t envy you.”

“Well, we’re muddling through,” I say.

“You’re turning him into a kinder, more evolved version of himself?” she asks, and it’s clearly another joke, like nobody could ever do that. I find it sad.

“He’s doing very well, actually.” I turn to Soren and pull out my question. “I don’t want to bore these two with shop talk, but…” I rattle off the question that the real Stella made me memorize.

He gives a long answer.

Luckily, the bruschetta plates have come. There’s basil and white cheese and little pea-looking things on them. I take one and force myself to eat it slowly while Soren talks in a slow and sonorous way, like he’s making a speech. I make sure to nod and try to look delighted, even though I don’t know what he’s talking about. When he pauses, I repeat the last few words that he said in a really fascinated way—that’s a Malcolm trick I picked up that makes him seem involved while adding absolutely nothing. It works brilliantly on Soren, who runs on and on. At one point I catch Malcolm’s eye and he’s giving me this friendly gleam, as if to say, I know what you just did. And my heart beats a little harder, because we’re all about our secret relationship now.

Another round of drinks comes. Soren is on his third martini, but I’m pacing myself. I’m still really hungry, and I need the shop talk to be over. I gaze out the window. “You know, I’ve heard that in the Bay Area, you can’t legally obstruct another person’s view of the Golden Gate Bridge. Is that true, you guys?”

I’m grateful when Verlaina gets onto the subject of tree-trimming. Malcolm sets the last bruschetta on my plate and I just want to kiss him.

---