Page 46 of A Billionaire for Christmas
‘I am not ashamed. I just don’t want to tell everyone about it. And to be honest, I don’t know why you would want to, either. Isn’t it a private thing?’
‘What happened to wishing things were different?’ Tears pricked at her eyes.
Levi reached for her hand. ‘If anything, I think we’d be amazing together. You’re smart, you’re funny, you’re insanely beautiful. I just don’t have time for a relationship. That’s all.’ He stepped in closer. ‘And if I’m honest, I do care about you. I care enough not to hurt you. Okay?’
Molly swallowed. ‘Okay. And while we’re being honest, I care about you too. I care enough to respect your privacy. There’ll be no social media ugly crying reels, no announcements on TikTok and absolutely no mention on the French television network about my many failed attempts to seduce you.’
An unspoken truce was agreed. Levi gave her hand a gentle squeeze. ‘Much appreciated. I’ll just make sure we have everything and lock up.’ Molly watched as he tidied the board game away, straightened a few books on the coffee table, rearranged the blanket over the armchair and bent to retrieve something off the floor. Really, was there anything more attractive?
‘What’s this?’
An icy feeling gripped her as she watched him pick up the solicitor’s letter that must have fallen from her pocket.
He unfolded it, along with the photocopied list it accompanied.
‘No. It’s nothing. Don’t read it!’ she yelled. But it was too late.
Levi furrowed his eyebrows. It took him all of two seconds to scan the letter. Then he separated it from the list and read that too, his eyes moving back and forth with increasing incredulity. He pinned her to the spot with a hard, suspicious glare.
‘Jesus, what are you playing at?’ Levi flicked the letters with the back of his hand before throwing them at her.
Molly had no words. How to explain that on paper you were trying to get naked in a hot tub with a billionaire – any billionaire – for money?
‘Am I some sort of game to you? A box to be ticked? Now who’s the one not being honest?’
Molly had no time to reply because as soon as he’d said his piece, he swivelled on his heel and left. He didn’t even give her the chance to explain. At the slamming of the door, she stood staring at it, flabbergasted, devastated, heartbroken.
15
MEET THE FAMILY… AND OTHER TRAUMATIC EXPERIENCES
Molly arrived at the lodge five minutes behind Levi, red-faced and puffy-eyed. Exactly as she had left. Levi had helped scoop the snow off her snowmobile and fixed her cases to the trailer in frosty silence. He had tested the machine was working correctly before handing her the keys, but he had absolutely refused to listen to any explanation regarding the letter. The only words he seemed to have digested were inheritance, bucket list, billionaire, hot tub,nakedand deadline. He wore an incredulous expression on his face every time they accidentally made eye contact, as though words failed him.
Toby was waiting on the steps but had the presence of mind not to question why it appeared as though Molly had been crying.How embarrassing.He helped her with the suitcases and indicated the back route into the lodge.
‘Take your time. I’ll cover the family until you feel well enough to join us.’
‘Thanks. But just so you know, these are tears of frustration and anger and disappointment… with men… and life in general.’
Toby backed away from her like she was an unexploded bomb. ‘Good to know.’
Molly thumped into her room and threw the cases on her bed. Because he was behaving like a stubborn idiot and cutting her off each time she tried to explain, Levi was assuming she was callous and manipulative and treating him as though he was just a box to be ticked. But, thanks to a string of unfortunate events, she hadn’t done that. ‘See what you’ve done, Ava?’ Molly yelled as she emptied her cases and stuffed her clothes roughly back into drawers and cupboards. She spotted the journal lying on the bed next to the letter. She would never understand why Ava had written the completion of her bucket list into her will, nor why she had spent the best part of the year grieving and staring into space instead of just getting on with it. She folded the letter carefully, placed it inside the journal and shoved it under her pillow. The clock was ticking. With only three days to go, she needed to reply to the solicitor with a progress report, send him photos of the pages she had managed to complete so far and sign the papers he’d emailed her ages ago.
* * *
A short while later, Molly found herself alone in the kitchen, yet again, taking out her frustrations on a basket of vegetables. She wasn’t looking forward to seeing Levi. She had no idea what to say to him or how to act around him. Yes, it looked bad. Yes, it looked like she was targeting a billionaire, but the bucket list challenge had been drinks with him in a hot tub. Whereas she had tried to seduce Levi, many, many times, in a variety of settings, so it was an entirely different… Molly stopped chopping. Even by her standards that line of reasoning sounded very weak. Never mind that Levi was a trained lawyer. Typical. But at least he could have read the letter properly instead of picking out the few incriminating words that made her look bad.
‘Hi,’ said a glamorous woman, waltzing into the room. ‘You must be the chef. I assume you’ve been informed about my gluten intolerance. Can you make sure you serve all my meals without wheat? And if you’re thinking of doing shared plates, then don’t. I’m also wondering whether an alkaline-based diet might be the thing. My pH levels are all over the place. Do that too.’
Her manners were certainly all over the place.Molly glanced up from the chopping board. Before she could reply, the impeccably dressed woman continued.
‘Now, I’ve heard all about your weird and wonderful meat sculptures, but I’m telling you now, that avant-garde nonsense won’t be of any interest to me. I like my nutrition to resemble food, not people. This isn’t the Museum of Modern Art.’
Ah.The sausage-meat face.
Molly felt herself blush. How unprofessional. ‘Understood.’
‘Ignore my mother,’ Lucca said, sauntering over. ‘She has a different intolerance every other day. What was it last week? Allergic to poor people?’
