Page 83 of Billionaire Grump
“What is all this?” she asks.
“I guess you’ll have to open them to find out.” I shove my fists into my pockets and lean my shoulder against a wall as I watch her. My shirt is still unbuttoned and I’m barefoot. I feel more reckless than I’ve ever felt. More unhinged. I literally can’t deal with the thought of her leaving. Or of not knowing how many hours it’ll be until I can see her again.
She sighs, as though opening gifts is a chore. But I’ve learned enough about Ivy Laine over the course of the weekend to know that at least part of this act, of disengaging and wanting to run, is for her own emotional protection. The only men she’s had in her life have either abandoned her completely or relied on her for everything. This is new territory.
She doesn’t know how to handle the next step we take any more than I do.
“Just open them, sweetheart, without all the drama.”
“You don’t need to buy me gifts, Alexander. You already…” She stops herself.
You already paid me.
It’s hardly an elephant in the room. But it does need to be placed firmly in the past. “That was for an agreement that ended yesterday. What’s in these packages is something else.”
She carefully tears the wrapping paper off the larger box.
Opening the box, she gasps, carefully taking out the acoustic guitar I bought for her.
“It’s a custom-built Taylor PSGA Koa guitar,” I tell her. “With mother-of-pearl on the fingerboard. Played by Taylor Swift on one of her earlier tours, I’ve been told. We bought it from the Country Music Hall of Fame in Nashville.” They didn’t want to let it go, but everything has its price.
“What?” She holds it, fingering the inlaid pearl. “Are you serious?”
“Of course. I’m always serious. Open the smaller one next.”
But she takes her time, playing a few chords on the guitar. It’s got a nice tone. “Alexander.” She says my name sort of dreamily but with a scolding edge, totally stunned by the gift.
“Go on. There’s more.”
She very gently places the guitar back in its box. “I can’t believe this.” Then she picks up the smaller box and unwraps it, holding up the glinting tennis bracelet I bought her.
“Those are yellow diamonds. They’re rare because the color is so intense. They reminded me of your eyes.”
“Alexander,” she says again.
I go over to her and take the bracelet from her fingers, looping it around her wrist, clasping it. “Now open the envelope.”
Her golden eyes are soulful. “You don’t need to buy me gifts.”
“I don’t need to, Jones, I want to. Because you’re so fucking gorgeous. And because you’ve just given me the best weekend of my life and I wanted to say thank you. Open it.”
She picks up the envelope and slides out the paperwork.
“There are a few things in here.” I take the first contract off the top of the pile. “This is the deed for your apartment building, as promised.”
“What?”
“You thought I was kidding, didn’t you, sweetheart?” I grin at her. “I wasn’t. You own it now, but the contract names me as your co-owner at one percent. That way, if you need help with anything or have any legal issues at all anywhere down the line, I can take care of them for you without any hassles.”
“But…how?”
“How?”
“Why?”
“Why did I buy your building for you?”
“Yes.”