The Billionaire's Princess - Ava Ryan Page 0,28

chuck this bar towel right at your smug face if you don’t start giving me serious answers,” she says, taking aim. “How would you like that?”

I laugh again. Swear to God, I’ve laughed more in the last ten minutes with her than I have in the last six months.

“Right now, I’m serious about getting dinner on the table before eight. I don’t want to risk you getting hangry on me.”

“Fair point,” she says, slinging the towel over her shoulder. “You get to work.”

I produce a stellar pasta dinner, which she eats with gusto. None of that pushing the food around on her plate bullshit I’ve encountered when dating models. She finishes the dishes like a champ, further confirming that she’s no princess when it comes to housework. After that, we settle on the sofa with the last of our wine. That’s when I notice the spread on her coffee table. Mystery books by Mary Higgins Clark and—

“What’s with all the cat info here?” I say, studying a page printed from some animal shelter website.

“I’m thinking about getting a cat,” she says happily. “I love having my own space, but it gets a bit lonely, doesn’t it? I think a cat might be good company. Do you like cats?”

“Cats are cool.”

She shuffles through the papers and produces a picture that looks like a dust mop with eyes. “How about this one? Her description says she likes to snuggle.”

“I’m guessing she also likes to shed.”

“You’re right,” she says, frowning as she tosses the paper back on the table. “I hadn’t thought of that. This whole cat business is all very complicated.”

“You’ll figure it out,” I say, surrendering to the temptation to touch her and smoothing her hair behind her ear.

“I feel so unsettled in my life,” she says quietly. “It was always the plan for my roommates to move out after graduation. But now it feels like there’s too much space. Not enough company. And it’s not that I don’t like to be alone with my thoughts. It’s just… I don’t know. I’m blathering. You probably don’t get lonely, do you?”

And there goes another one of her complicated questions, detonating over my head like a missile strike.

On any other day, if anyone else had asked me if I felt lonely, the answer would be simple. Fuck no. I’m too busy building my empire to be lonely. I careen from meeting to meeting, phone call to phone call, country to country. I’m surrounded by people. I’m sick of people. A lot of the time, my fondest wish is to shipwreck myself on an island in the South Pacific with only a bottle of tequila and my e-reader to keep me company while I devour espionage thrillers. As for female companionship? An hour in bed a few times a week to address our bodies’ needs and to help me blow off steam is good, thanks. No need to linger, and don’t let the door hit you on the ass on your way out.

But this isn’t any other day. This is Carly asking. And she’s nailing me with her vivid blue x-ray vision while she’s at it.

I think about all the meals I eat alone. All the times I walk into my empty apartment after a long day or a grueling trip and there’s no one there to be happy I’m back or even to have noticed that I was gone. Which is every time I walk into my apartment. I go to bed and wake up by myself. I’m always the unmatched singleton at dinner parties. I managed a personal best time at the New York Marathon last fall, the third time I’d run the race, and there were plenty of people to grab breakfast with after. But no one to give me a hug and kiss and say, I’m so proud of you, honey. No one to fuss over my aching muscles and give me a massage. I’m already in training for this fall’s marathon. I pound out all those miles alone.

Alone. Alone. Alone.

I open my mouth because Carly is starting to look at me funny. Out shoots the real answer, and it’s a doozy. One I probably would never have recognized, much less admitted, until she asked me.

“I get lonely, yeah.”

She nods, looking reassured that she’s not the only one. “I don’t know about you, but I’m taking drastic action to nip this self-pitying lonely nonsense in the bud,” she says crisply. “Hence the cat. I’m also thinking about volunteering at the