Page 36 of Extradition (Mobsters + Billionaires 1)
He finally smiles, and it’s vulnerable as hell. Yet another huge crack in his miles-above-everyone billionaire persona. The desire to surround him in bubble wrap is almost overwhelming.
“So…do you know how this works?” he asks, holding out the box for me to take.
I nod and quickly walk him through setting up an account and pairing the two headsets. “I’m so happy Sherry brought this over—I don’t even know what made her think of it.”
His smile is small and wry. “Did you ever happen to mention VR to Sherry?”
I nod, attaching earbuds to each headset. “I dunno, like once, a few months ago. Do you think she got this because of that conversation?”
“She’s very good at her job. Remembers every detail, even the ones you wished she didn’t. But I’m glad she was able to get something thoughtful.”
“It was very thoughtful.”
We go quiet and put on our headsets. Before we get into the first-person shooter game I’ve had my eye on, I spy my favorite travel app.
“Hey, before we start trying to murder each other, wanna see something cool?”
“Uh, sure.”
I tell him where to go and push back my visor to see his reaction.
“I’m in the mountains,” he says, reaching out in front of himself. “Oh, wow, there are mountains behind me,” he says, swinging to look behind him.
He spins back around and bumps into his tufted ottoman. I grab his arm to prevent him from tripping and try to ignore the rapid rise of his chest.
“Whoops, let me move this out of the way.”
He stands still as I move things around in the living room, making space for us. I touch his elbow, and he jumps.
“Sorry. Just directing you to stand in the middle.”
After a few seconds, he relaxes into my touch, his shoulders finally dropping out of his ears. With his headset still in place, I take advantage and really look at him. Despite these flashes of awkwardness, there’s something about the way he holds his body that feels like repressed energy. Like his arms. He doesn’t let them hang relaxed at his sides. Rather, he keeps them in a slight bend, like a bird with a damaged wing just waiting to heal.
I bet he’d be beautiful in full flight.
I snort to myself—okay, who the hell am I trying to be right now? William Fucking Shakespeare? I shake myself and put back on the headset, hitting the button to start the game.
We’re immediately dropped into an intensely violent scene, and I worry it’ll be too much for him, but he’s into it. Like, surprisingly into it. And whatever part of me thinks I still have a chance at winning is quickly silenced with a bullet between my eyes.
“Wow. Brutal.”
I push up my headset, and his proud smirk is more satisfying than a win would have been, that’s for damn sure. We go a few more rounds before calling it a night. We’ve got our first meeting with the board tomorrow, and I’m glad we had a chance to connect beforehand.
You know, for the business.
* * *
I refuseto take my breakfast in the guest suite again, so I decide to make us a quick frittata.
After knocking out a body-weight workout, I make my way into the kitchen, grateful that the pretty billionaire with the appealing vulnerabilities is nowhere to be seen.
Grabbing the eggs, milk, and some vegetables, I whip up a semi-healthy breakfast. Then just to ensure nobody thinks the penthouse life is turning me into a health nut, I fry up a rasher of bacon to add some flair to the proceedings.
I’m nearly done with breakfast when Rand walks into the kitchen. He’s wearing expensive workout gear, sleek and gray, stylish, engineered to wick the merest hint of sweat from his slender body.
My eyes track down his sculpted frame to his shoes, which I recognize from the company’s Amplify line. Honestly, I don’t know why they spend millions of dollars wooing big-name athletes to sell their shoes—they should just put Wolfe on a billboard.
“Whatcha cooking?” he asks, peering over my shoulder as though he’s somehow never seen someone make breakfast before.
