Billion Dollar Chance - Linnea May Page 0,17
she doesn’t know about the drunken joke me and my friends shared at Aston’s birthday this weekend. We clinked glasses to it, but I’m sure the boys are as serious about it as I am—which is not at all. A pact to find a wife, how ridiculous!
Therese raises a reprimanding eyebrow at me.
“You also have to select a few items for the auction,” she reminds me, ignoring my question. “Please do so ahead of time, and let me know if you need my help with anything.”
“No need to remind me,” I lie. Of course, I’d forgotten about both, the gala itself and the fact that they’re holding an auction that needs my input. Therese knows me too well, but I don’t give her the satisfaction of being right about my scatterbrain once again.
Plus, she shouldn’t underestimate how easy it is for me to acquire these things. I just need to call in a few favors—and I already know who to call.
As soon as she disappears into the hallway, I pick up my phone and dial Logan’s number.
“Feel like doing something for your karma?” I greet him when he picks up.
“Again?” he retorts, adding a snort. “Admit it, you need something from me.”
“Well, you owe me, so—”
“You know there will be a time when you can no longer hold that one over my head,” he cuts me off, referencing an evening during our Freshman year in college, when I saved him from being caught with way too much marijuana in his possession. “But lucky for you, that day hasn’t come yet, so, tell me, what do you need?”
“You still got that yacht lying around?”
“Which one?” Logan retorts, sounding bored. “The one in Newport?”
Even I have to agree that he’s sometimes a bit too nonchalant and swanky about his wealth. If Ella could hear this exchange, her eyes would most likely roll out of her head.
“If that’s the one you mentioned this weekend, the one you bought on a whim a year ago but never use?”
“Yeah, could be. Why? What about it?”
“I have to come up with some items to auction off for some benefit gala I have to attend this weekend. Thought you might be interested in getting rid of it?” I say. “It would be for a good cause.”
I know he couldn’t care less about that last part, but I chose to mention it anyway. And it doesn’t take long for him to reply.
“Yeah, sure, why not,” he responds languidly. “I’m not doing anything with it anyway. It’s way too small.”
Too small for what, I think to myself. It’s a 112’ Westport Yacht with a jacuzzi, spa and BBQ that can sleep up to 8 people. I don’t know how much he paid for it, but I’m sure it’s more money than most people see in a lifetime.
“Great, just send me the deets and I’ll—”
I’m cut off mid-sentence as the door to my office swings open violently, followed by the appearance of an all-too familiar face, framed by a red mane with strands flying in all directions.
“Call you back,” I hastily finish my call with Logan, not even waiting for his response. He’s the last person I want to have on the phone right now.
“Why did you ignore my call?” Ella bursts out, planting herself in front of my desk.
Therese pops up right behind her, an apologetic look on her face. “I’m sorry, she just—”
“It’s okay,” I assure her, raising an appeasing hand. Therese pauses for a moment, her curious eyes flitting back and forth between me and Ella, before she quietly disappears, thankfully closing the door behind herself.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I snap at Ella, whose face hardens in an instant. Her cheeks are glowing with heat and I can tell that she’s not only furious, but nervous, too. She’s wearing a dark green coat that looks way too cold for the temperatures outside, topped with a massive black scarf wrapped around her neck. Her wild hair completes the distraught expression on her face as she takes a step forward.
“I’m demanding an answer,” she hisses. “Why did you ignore my call? Why did you reject our proposal?”
That’s why she called me? To talk about this goddamn proposal her institute drew up?
“I didn’t reject it,” I object. “I just pointed out everything that’s wrong with it. We can’t adopt policies based on that very first draft—”
“Very first draft?” She cuts me off. “We’ve worked on this project for months! This is not just a first draft of