Billion Dollar Beast - Olivia Hayle Page 0,16

it hits me—Skye had mentioned him last weekend, at dinner. Invited him to the chalet, in fact.

“He couldn’t come tonight,” I say sweetly. It’s not really a lie either. He couldn’t come, on account of not having been invited.

Nick shrugs. “What a shame. I’m sure I would have enjoyed meeting him.”

He would not enjoy meeting you, I think. “Really? That’s an unusually nice sentiment from someone who’s never nice.”

“Nice,” he snorts. “As if you’ve ever been nice to me.”

And perhaps it’s the two glasses of wine I’ve had, or the anger at his offhand comments, but I actually blurt the next words out. “You were rude to me first.”

Even as I say it, I can hear how childish it sounds.

Nick doesn’t seem to mind. He takes a sip of his brandy instead, a furrow in his brow. “You’ll have to remind me.”

“The poker game,” I say, pushing my hair back behind an ear. “I asked to join and you turned me down in front of everyone in the room.”

He looks shocked, but then he laughs. It’s a dark thing. “That? I was saving you! Those guys were absolute assholes.”

“As were you.”

“As was I,” he agrees. “As I said—saving you. That game was nothing for you. You were what, nineteen? And Cole’s younger sister?”

“I’d just turned twenty-one.” I cross my arms over my chest. If that had been his reason, there had been no reason to be rude—nor to be rude at every turn since. “Motivated by altruism? I’m sorry if I don’t buy it.”

Nick shakes his head. Not for the first time, I wonder if his nose has ever been broken. “I’m not surprised.”

“I guess civility is only for work, then.”

“That was our agreement, yes.” He tips his glass of brandy in my direction, voice dripping with condescension. “Extending it to around the clock would probably be more taxing than you could manage.”

Me? I’m the one who’s only ever wanted to be his friend. I grit my teeth. “I’m going on that ski trip,” I say fiercely.

If he’s bothered by the non-sequitur, it doesn’t show. “Oh, so am I,” he counters.

“And I’m an excellent skier.”

“As am I.”

“Excellent.”

“Perfect.”

We stand there glaring at each other. My heart beats against my ribs, aware how much closer we’re standing than when we began talking. Nick’s eyes are dark flames. For the first time in years, I feel like he’s looking at me and seeing me, not Cole’s little sister. He might not like what he sees, but it feels like a victory regardless.

“Mr. Park!” A voice breaks us out of our staring contest. A portly man appears at Nick’s side, a mustache hiding his nervous smile. Thomas York, head of the fundraising committee.

Nick’s face smooths back into schooled impassivity so quickly that I wonder if I’d imagined the passionate irritation there. “Mr. York.”

“I’m sorry to interrupt your, erm, discussion, but I was informed by your people that I was to find you as soon as possible. Well, here I am.”

I watch in fascination as Nick nods. “Thank you for making the time. Let’s talk. If you’ll excuse me, Miss Porter…”

I produce my widest, most beaming smile. “Of course. It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. York. And Mr. Park… do take care. I want you to be in perfect shape when I race you on the slopes.”

Nick’s eyes glitter in the dim lighting. “Prepare to lose,” he says.

6

Nick

Whistler is a sight from the air. At my request, the helicopter makes an extra round before we descend over the snow-ladened landscape. Mountains stretch high around us, dark green pines barely visible beneath a blanket of heavy white.

It’s one of the many sights I’m determined not to take for granted. Nor is international travel. The Canadian border might only be a two-hour drive from Seattle, but I’d never left the country until I was well into adulthood.

I force my mind away from the thought. It’s easy to stray too close to childhood memories, and I’d rather not dwell on most of those.

The helicopter makes a smooth landing on the helipad. Kept free from ice and snow all year round, there’s no quicker way to travel. If Cole were here, no doubt he’d make some quip about how it saves him time—and time is money. He’s never truly appreciated this kind of thing, having grown up with money long before he made his own billions. Blair, despite her sunny nature, is the same. Both of them come from comfort. That was as clear as the privilege they’d