Page 144 of The Thing About My Secret Billionaire
“Got time to hang out for one more celebratory bevvy?” Oliver asks.
I nod at Miller, knowing Elsie’s day will be even better if she gets to chat with a real living British royal for a few more minutes.
“Love to,” Chase says, “but I have to catch a flight to LA for a meeting about the movie I’m producing.”
“That’s the one about the female soccer player, right?” Miller asks.
Chase nods as he puts his jacket on.
“And I have a contract to read over,” Leo says.
“I’m up for it,” Amelia says. “What would everyone like?”
Leo coughs. “Actually, maybe I can stay for a little bit. The contract won’t take that long.”
We all give Amelia our drink orders, and Grandpa and Elsie head for the restrooms.
“Hah. Brooke just sent me this.” Miller holds up his phone.
It bears the most adorable photo of seven-month-old baby William dressed head to toe in BostonCommoners gear.
“You might be next,” Chase says, slapping Miller on the back before there’s a flurry of goodbyes as he heads out.
Miller and Leo are then suddenly deep in conversation about some sort of investment bond.
Oliver looks as uninterested and uneducated about such financial matters as I am.
“Do you miss home?” I ask him, just to make conversation.
He gives me a noncommittal shrug. “I love living in New York. People kind of leave me alone there.”
“You mean you can wander around unrecognized?” That seems hard to believe.
“For the most part. As long as I’m wearing a baseball cap. And keep my head down. And my security stays well back.” He jerks his head toward the box entrance where two men who look like they’re CIA guys heading for the beach are stationed.
“I make them dress down too,” Oliver says. “If they were walking around in black suits and white shirts and talking into their cuffs, that would be a real giveaway.”
“And you have them twenty-four hours a day?” I ask.
“Yup. I had death threats after I moved to the US. Well, I had them in the UK too, but they got worse after I left.”
“Wow. All this security must cost a fortune.” Shit, that’s an embarrassing thing to say. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to talk about your personal finance.”
He waves it off like it’s nothing. “No worries. It’s hardly a secret. The press talks about it often enough.”
How he manages to be so consistently jovial and easygoing considering the pressure he lives under, I’ll never know.
“I really need some kind of a job to cover it all now. Isold my business when I left the UK, so that I could cut all ties and arrive here with a clean slate and make a fresh start.” He laughs, but it’s obvious there’s an undercurrent of genuine concern for his financial situation.
“It’s good that you have this team,” I tell him.
“It’s fun,” he says. “Not sure it’s an investment that will ever pay off, but it’s good to be part of something. This place is like a little family. I mean, Chase and I aren’t from Boston—hell, I’m not even from this country—and neither of us even lives in this city, but the fans and staff welcomed us with open arms as soon as we bought the club.”
Grandpa and Elsie reappear, and Oliver turns their seats around so they can face us.
“I don’t know if it’s okay for me to say this,” Elsie says, playing with the strap of her purse as she sits. “But I once worked on one of your grandmother’s dresses.”
“Wow,” Oliver says. “Which one?”
