Billion Dollar Beast - Olivia Hayle Page 0,67

the reference to Nick’s reputation in business. To the joke about Cole’s public relations skills. To the fact that my uncle expects me to laugh to it.

A year ago, I probably would have.

“They’re good friends,” I say.

“Oh, of course they are.” My uncle’s voice quiets. Big words, but he wouldn’t want to be overheard.

There’s more I could say. About Nick’s business sense, about saving companies rather than destroying them. Perhaps some ridiculous metaphor about how even vultures have a place in nature. That I’ve been working for him. Nick had once said that he didn’t want to harm my reputation, somehow. And here I am wanting to defend his.

But I’m a woman on a mission, and correcting my uncle will have to wait. I look from him to Nick beyond. He’s outside, in the dark and cold, choosing it over the warmth and commotion inside.

He always chooses to stand apart.

“Excuse me,” I tell my uncle, and step out to join Nick in the cold autumn air.

22

Blair

“Here you are,” I say, wrapping my arms around myself.

Nick doesn’t look down at me. He keeps staring out into the distance, and even in the dim light, I can tell his jaw is clenched. “Found me,” he says.

I swallow. “Why have you been avoiding my calls all week?”

“Why do you think?” He takes a sip out of a glass I hadn’t seen him holding.

I glance back to the crowded room inside. We can’t do this here—not with people watching. “Come on,” I tell him. “Let’s go inside.”

And to my surprise… he follows without protest. I lead him around the back porch to the kitchen entrance. It’s open, thank God, and none of the waiters raise an eyebrow as we walk through the butler’s pantry to the back staircase. Nor do we run into my mother, and for that alone, I need to write a thank-you note to fate.

“Far away from prying eyes,” Nick comments, but his voice isn’t amused so much as it’s dry. It’s the Nick from months ago—the Nick who couldn’t look at me with anything but disdain or indifference.

I thought we had banished that Nick forever.

“In here,” I tell him, pulling him into my brother’s study. It’s the one room I can always count on being deserted.

Nick glances around. “This room. Again.”

The room where we’d kissed. Yes, I remember, but I won’t be sidetracked. Not even by the way his suit—worn disdainfully, as always—looks like it’s cut specifically for him. The five-o’-clock shadow on his face is more pronounced, like he hasn’t shaved in days, bringing out the heat in his eyes.

“So you finally have me here,” he says. “Let’s hear what you’ve wanted to tell me all week.”

The faint hope I’d harbored falls with his words. Hope that there had been some form of misunderstanding, that he’d changed his mind, that the argument we’d had was truly no more than a bump in the road.

“That’s your attitude?” My voice comes out more pained than I want it to. I brace my hands behind me against the desk.

“My attitude?” He raises an eyebrow. “You were the one who quit your job immediately after our argument, and without a word of explanation. Actually, let me go first, to spare you the trouble. You’re right. This isn’t a good idea.”

My chest feels like it’s caving in. “Working together?”

“Working together, getting to know one another, sleeping together.” The seething force of his reply catches me off guard.

“That’s what you want, then? For us to stop… what we’ve been doing.”

His eyes are black and dazzling with unrestrained fury. Why is he so angry? I don’t understand it. “Yes. That’s for the best, isn’t it? What you want and what I want isn’t compatible.”

“Right,” I agree faintly.

“And now we don’t have to talk to Cole about it.” He rolls his neck, like it’s stiff, glancing away from me. “Problem solved.”

My words aren’t considered. They aren’t measured, tactical, precise. They flow out of me faster than I can dam them. “You’re afraid again. You’re afraid this might become something real, for once, so you’re retreating.”

“I’m the one retreating? You’re the one who quit the job without a word. Whatever. I’m done with this. Go back to hating me, Blair. It was better that way.”

And then he does the unthinkable.

He turns away, like we’re done with this conversation, like this is all we needed to say. My hands tremble with anger as I cross the room to him.

“I quit the job for you, you idiot,” I say. I