Belle and the Beast - Ruby Vincent Page 0,77

money, what is it to lose a little here or there to chance a big payout? It’s important to—”

I tuned him out.

Hendrix set us up in the dining room, and sitting with her group next to the pool, was Belle. She couldn’t have been least interested in event planning, but she nodded along, and spoke up when the girls turned to her.

Seeing her brought the familiar twist in my stomach and tightening in my pants. My body couldn’t choose between one or the other. Arousal or agitation.

The truth is it would likely be both until the day I died. Her sitting across from me, sweet and determined, as she offered to become my wife—sealed my lifelong battle.

How could she not know she offered me Voldemort’s choice of drinking blood that would save me from death, only to live a cursed life?

That night I didn’t go to Kelli like I insinuated.

I took the whiskey under my bed, jacked a golf cart, drove into the grove, and passed out drunk under a tree. I woke the next morning to a worker shaking me awake.

The first reaction was to get drunk. The third thought was to talk to her. The second was the one I landed on—avoiding her and conversation to focus on what I came here to do. I got distracted by Belle and the result was becoming her charity case. We could stand on equal footing again when I had an understanding fiancée.

“Mr. Prince? Are you listening?”

I tore away from her.

“I’d like you to finish those financial plans today,” he said. “We start our second project tomorrow.”

I saluted him.

My report was done. I finished it the first night he assigned it.

Hendrix gave us all a million dollars a year and a set amount we had to pay in taxes, services, and on life. Twenty-five percent off the top for taxes. Then we factored in the other costs.

Fifty thousand a year per child. Sixty-five thousand a year for a personal chef. Forty thousand a year for a driver. Five thousand dollars to take the other half on a fancy week-long vacation. You get the gist.

The long list of services and accommodations community members built their life on were cataloged for us to decide what we needed and could afford.

The lesson wasn’t lost on me, but I knew it was lost on most of the guys here. They’d be living on much more than a million dollars a year after we were set free from this place. Taking over billion-dollar companies. Inheriting trust funds containing twice the amount of the national debt. I suspected only two people in the room would ever know the experience of scrimping, saving, and living on a budget.

Me and Hendrix.

“I’ll leave you gentlemen to it,” Hendrix said. “If you need help, you can find me in the theater, setting up for movie night.”

Chairs scraped the floor as the guys took the invitation to break up.

“I’m going upstairs to knock this out,” said Carter.

“I have to catch my mom.” Preston stood up too. “Something important we need to talk about.”

“You good, man?” I asked as I drifted to Belle.

“It’s not me with the problem,” he said. “But it’ll be fine.”

They headed out, leaving me and a few stragglers behind. Through the window, Belle started massaging her temples like she did when she was prepping to use the headache excuse. It was almost scary how well I knew her.

Kelli sat on her other side, talking animatedly and using her hands to describe.

Kelli was who I should be looking at.

Katherine Elsie Donahue. Kelli for short. Daughter of Earl Raymond Donahue and heir to their streaming video empire, DoubleFeature.

Kelli could buy my mother and me three new lives and it wouldn’t put a dent in her fortune. More importantly, she’d been dropping hints that she’d be happy to do just that.

My former classmates didn’t know the complete story of my life, but they knew my mother was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. They knew about my inheritance situations. And those unfortunate enough to meet him, knew my grandfather was a raging dick.

Anyone the least bit perceptive understood our wedding would save me from him. From Kelli’s gentle prodding, she was also discerning enough to know my mom would come with me.

Kelli is perfect, I thought. She’s smart, funny, and sweet. She doesn’t tackle me into the dirt. Call me a jackass. Play mind games. Or dump me and then ask me to marry her. I should sit Kelli down that night and lay it

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