Page 49 of Billionaire Grump
I take that as our cue, stepping away from the railing. “We should go.”
But Alexander doesn’t follow me. His muscular arms are folded, like he hasn’t finished disciplining me. “How many listens or whatever do you get each day for your music? Is it not enough to pay the bills?”
God. He’s so direct and so damn bossy. “I don’t know how that’s any of your business. I do just fine. And I’ll wear whatever I want to wear and post whatever I want to post, without your input. But thanks for asking.” I realize my fists are resting on my hips. I make a point of toning down my attitude. I’m not being paid to argue with my fake date over my own life. He has no say in it whatever, so it hardly matters if he’s curious.
He’s quiet and it’s contemplative, but his pause also has a power to it, like he’s used to people hanging on his every word. This is a man who knows how to wield silence like a holstered weapon. “Where are your parents? Are they local?”
I’m not expecting the question. And I’m not sure why I’m honest with him. “My mother is dead and my father is…estranged, I guess you could call it. We don’t really talk anymore.”
I almost expect him to demand to know why. Instead he says, “I’m sorry.”
“Thank you. Now can we please go back to our table?”
“You said you had a brother. How old is he?”
The topic of Josh always feels personal. I hesitate, but I can’t figure out how to dodge the question. “Seventeen.”
“Does he live with you or your father?”
I don’t know how this is any of his business. But he’s waiting for his answer. And I think of all that money that’s now padding Josh’s bank account, thanks to the bossy billionaire who’s now grilling me. “Me.”
“So you’re responsible for him.”
“I have been, yes. Completely. In every way.”
“For how long?”
“A few years.”
“I see.”
He sees? Sees what? From where I’m standing, he sees nothing and knows even less. I didn’t come here to get interrogated by some ego-inflated jerk who now thinks he understands me from two morsels of half-true information. And I can’t stand the heat of his knowing intensity.
“I’m going back to our table. Are you coming?”
Two hundred and fifty grand hardly seems worth the Spanish Inquisition from a guy who got handed his damn fortune by great grandpa.
Before I can start making my way back toward the now-rowdy party, I see the silhouette of a woman approaching us. Even her silhouette is beige.
“It’s Margot,” I say.
“Yes, it is,” Alexander mutters. “Brace yourself.”
As pissed off and flustered as I am, I’ve come too far to have him demand his money back. What’s about to happen here and how I handle it is the exact reason I’m being paid so generously.
So I walk back over to him and stand in front of him. Slowly, because his eyes are still dark, I reach up to carefully touch his face, brushing my thumb softly along his bottom lip. “Put your arm around me.”
He does and Margot stops a few paces from where we’re presenting our united front. “Alexander?” Her voice sounds almost little-girl-ish, like she’s purposely dialed back the army commander/wedding planner persona to appeal to him on a softer level. “I wondered if you and I could have a few words. In private.”
My hand rests on Alexander’s chest, possessively.
“Whatever you’ve got to say can be said to us both,” he tells her.
She looks smaller and more vulnerable out here in the open, without her iPad and her brigade of caterers. “It’s just that I was hoping we could talk. But I suppose you’re right. Maybe this weekend isn’t the time and place. Maybe we could meet this week in the city, for a drink. I really have some things I wanted to talk to you about. We could go to that place we used to go near Rockefeller Center, remember?”
“Why don’t you just tell me now, Margot.” He sounds bored. With that edge of misery inking his words.
I slide my arms around Alexander’s waist. He’s so big…and hard. Everywhere. “We’re actually going away later this week,” I gush, putting on an upbeat personality. Not that my usual personality isn’t upbeat, it’s just not this upbeat. “I’m so excited. Alexander’s always surprising me with impromptu little trips, aren’t you, honey?” I glance up at him, blinking.