Crazy for Loving You A Bluewater Billionaires Romantic Comedy - Pippa Grant Page 0,26

the alternative?

“I need to talk to my lawyer,” I tell her gruffly.

She claps her hand. “I thought you might. I called him. He’s outside.”

I think I’ve just been outplayed.

And I’m afraid it won’t be the last time.

Eleven

Daisy

When I was growing up, no one ever accused me of being a genius. It was all Daisy’s so pretty and Daisy’s so nice and I hope Daisy develops some marketable skills, because pretty and nice won’t get her very far.

Nice guys finish last, right?

Depends on what you consider last.

I’ll never win awards for my charity work—not that I don’t do it, I simply don’t do it where everyone’s watching. And why waste money on an award for giving money?

Just give more money to the people and causes that need it. Duh.

My grandmother sold her soul to stay immortal and at the helm of Carter International Properties for all eternity, so being CEO is off the table. Not that it was ever on the table. Some days, I really don’t know why I’m still employed, but I keep doing my best, and encouraging the staff under me to do their best, and the pieces keep falling into place.

I’m no scientist, but I have a theory that when you treat people right and care, they’ll bend over backward to do just about anything you ask. Which isn’t why I give my staff extra days off, invite them to bring their kids to work, and throw not only a wicked awesome holiday party, but also untoppable Valentine’s Day, Independence Day, and Talk Like A Pirate Day parties.

I also ask how Hussein in accounting is feeling after his accident. If Katya in legal is still having trouble with her ex. And if Jorge in marketing needs some extra time off since his mama has been sick back home.

Deep down, most people just want to be loved and appreciated and seen. So I give them what they need, and in return, they give me what I need, and we’re all one big pile of happiness shining brighter than the Miami sun, with me standing between them and my grandmother.

Okay, maybe that’s just me being a big pile of happiness. Since Thursday night, though, I’ve been standing on a pile of panic asking my staff for favors, alternated with begging Alessandro and Tiana, my personal assistant, to help me discretely donate to college funds for orphaned kids and send shoes and toiletries to homeless shelters, that finally results in Lucinda shooing me outside late Saturday morning with orders to let someone else take care of you.

As if she hasn’t been doing that anyway. But now, for the first time in thirty-six hours, I can actually take a full breath and relax. I’m sitting next to the sun-shielded cabana hut she set up for Remy by the pool inside my D-shaped courtyard, not to be confused with my dick pool on the outside of my own fortress, for the record.

That pool’s there basically just to challenge my grandmother’s Botox.

I know. I know. If I want her approval, I shouldn’t bait her. But the Bluewater community is the only thing I have in my life that I’ve done on my own—Cameron, Emily, Luna and I designed and built it, not Carter International Properties—and I wanted a pool shaped like a dick.

So I have a dick pool.

I glance over at Remy, who’s hangin’ in a baby swing in the shade, fans blowing around him, bottles chilling in an ice bucket until he gets hungry, diapers stacked and ready for battle under the small changing table, while I sip a virgin piña colada and catch up on emails, checking in on my staff not just here in Miami, but also in New York and Atlanta, and I pretend everything’s normal while I let the sunshine reassure me.

West is inside unpacking, which means I haven’t been disinherited yet.

It also means I owe him favors basically for the rest of my life. I might be breathing easier at knowing that I can soak up all the baby knowledge I can get from him. But lucky for him, I have a very good idea of where to start with favors.

Alessandro got his hands on the background check and private investigator reports my grandmother had done before she brought Julienne’s will to light, and I have a lead on West’s maybe-girlfriend.

The thought both sours my stomach and gives me a huge sense of relief, because if he has a girlfriend, then he’s off-limits, and it doesn’t matter