The Billionaire Game 3(28)

My life would have been so much simpler if I could have just made myself hate this woman, but she certainly didn’t make it easy.

“Speaking of mentions, my editors have been pressing me to do a follow-up article,” Evangeline went on. “‘Rise of the newest star’ and all that. And I’d certainly love to do as many articles as I can, you’re excellent for my cred. I’ve gotten two offers from other magazines just this week, and each of them specifically mentioned my piece on you! I have to say, I really owe you, Kate.”

That was it. Evangeline was the nicest person on Earth, and I was never going to be able to make myself hate her, not if I took a course on willpower and practiced ten hours a day.

Thankfully, Asher was still available for that role.

…and oh look, there was Asher, coming right towards us.

I opened my mouth to make some kind of excuse before I fled, but Evangeline had already seen someone she knew. “Padme! Whatever are you doing here? You must tell me how you’ve come to know Grant—or is it Lacey—excuse me for just one moment, Kate—”

And before I could make my exit as well, Asher was there.

“Kate. Dalton,” he said stiffly.

“Asher,” Brody echoed.

“Asher,” I echoed, slightly more faintly.

He turned to me. “I’d like to speak to you for a moment.” He shot a glare at Brody. “Alone.”

“Well, I’m not really in the mood for a private conversation,” I said. And I definitely wasn’t in the mood for the ‘so why did you come to my apartment, well, actually Evangeline and I are together now’ gentle let-down conversation that said conversation would definitely be. Humiliation was not my favorite thing. “So why don’t you say whatever it is you have to say here?”

“Yeah,” Brody said sneeringly. “Why don’t you, Asher? Got something to hide? Or maybe you’re afraid of someone your own size?”

“I can take care of this myself,” I snapped at Brody. Asher looked cheered for a second at my pique, but then I turned my gaze on him. “I don’t have anything to say to you right now, Asher. E-mail my business account if it’s so urgent.”

Asher looked from me to Brody. “And if I do, will he see it?”

“Why would Brody be seeing my—”

“And what if I did?” Brody challenged, and Asher puffed up his chest like a rooster, stepping closer.

“That’s it,” I said. “I ran out of patience for you two’s weird pissing match, like, three weird pissing matches ago. When either of you is ready to have a conversation that’s actually about me, instead of whatever competitive bullshit you’ve been pulling since college, I’ll be over there.”

I stomped over to Evangeline and Padme and…Mira Weisman again?

“We meet again,” she said with a smile. “How are things?”

“Things are…things,” I said, tongue-tied all over again. “I—well—” The last time I’d made this confession things hadn’t gone over well, but hey, if you can’t tell something to the woman you’ve idolized since you were fourteen, who can you tell? “Actually, Evangeline, and this is strictly off-record—”

“Of course,” she said, leaning closer with curiosity nonetheless.

“Well, I’ve had a buyout offer,” I said. “A million dollars. But I’d have to give up a lot of creative control…walk away from my brand…and I’m not sure what to do.”

“Well, of course you can’t take it!” Evie protested. “The creativity of your line is the best thing about it! You’re not going to just walk away.”

“Absolutely,” Padme agreed. “You have to stay true to your artistic vision.”

Easy for them to say. Judging by the rocks around their necks and hanging off their fingers, neither of them had ever had to try to use ‘artistic vision’ to pay the bills.

I looked at Ms. Weisman. “What do you think?”

She smiled gently and patted my hand. “I think you have to do what you think is right. That’s all we ever get in this life. That choice. And no one can make it for us.”



#



Once the microphones were tracked down, Lacey tasked me with making sure all the guests got ushered into the dining room. Most went on their own, but there were a few absent-minded professor types who had to be torn away from their discussions of market value and reminded that they were there for a reason.

And there was apparently one person who just wanted to stare out the window and look at the rain.

I watched the line of Asher’s shoulders, set against the slate-grey San Francisco sky, and I ached for him more than ever.