Marrying the Billionaire - Macie St. James Page 0,19

married in the South of France.”

There it was. That voice. Shellie spoke exactly as he would have pictured, even if she didn’t look the part. Now that she’d spoken, though, he saw the chill in her eyes as she assessed him, running her gaze over his suit. He would swear she was expecting to find that it came up short somehow, but he knew where he’d gotten this suit and how much he’d paid for it. If she thought this was substandard, she knew absolutely nothing about male designer fashion.

“We are planning that, yes.”

Everyone turned their attention to him, making him feel incredibly self-conscious. Was this the point where he was supposed to brag about his private plane? That felt a bit on the tool side, and Charlie didn’t want him to come across that way.

“Nicholas is a pioneer in application development,” Charlie said. “He’s also head of Talkspar.”

Nicholas winced. At least people weren’t looking at him anymore. They’d turned back to Charlie.

“Talk Spar?” Shellie asked, dividing the brand name of his company into two words. Somehow she made it sound tacky, like it was something a commoner would say.

“We just had a meeting on that at work!” Bobby Johnson said, turning his starstruck stare from Charlie to Nicholas. He squeezed through the crowd and stepped to the outside of the circle, making it clear he wanted this conversation to be one-on-one.

Meanwhile, Shellie and Jamie took over the conversation in the group behind him. Shellie looked like just about every other woman he met when he visited the suburbs. She wore a black dress with sequins and her hair was short and curly. Had she been anyone else, he wouldn’t have scrutinized her, but knowing she’d been mean to Charlie, he felt the need to find her flaws.

He needed to get over that. This wasn’t his fight.

As Bobby pounded him with questions, Nicholas divided his attention between the overeager man in front of him and the conversation happening behind him. He heard Shellie hammer Charlie with questions. Wedding colors, caterers, honeymoon destinations. Charlie was surprisingly quick with her answers, which made Nicholas wonder if she’d rehearsed this in advance.

Sounded like it.

In fact, he liked the picture she was painting. A beautiful, but fairly small, wedding in the South of France, followed by a honeymoon on the French Riviera. The idea of spending a week at a waterfront resort with Charlie McLaughlin sounded far more appealing than anything he’d done recently.

“—next conference. Would you be up for that?”

Bobby’s question snapped Nicholas back to the conversation in front of him, making him realize he’d completely switched his attention to what was going on behind him. Problem was, he didn’t want this guy to know he’d tuned him out.

“Would I be up for your next conference?”

It was a trick Justin had taught him back in college. If a teacher in class called him out when Justin wasn’t paying attention, he’d just repeat as much as he could of what he’d heard. It didn’t work every time, but it was surprising how often it did work. Especially when you were talking to someone who wanted to believe you were paying attention.

“I know it’s a lot to ask,” Bobby rushed to add. “And I’ll certainly understand if you say no. No pressure. Just think about it. Here’s my card.”

Nicholas was left, once again, trying to juggle his plate of food—this time to take Bobby’s outstretched business card and slide it into his jacket pocket. He had to hand it to the guy—he certainly was a quick draw with that business card. Nicholas wasn’t even sure how it had materialized so quickly.

“Certainly.” Nicholas took a big bite of shrimp, doing his best to try to look like a billionaire while chewing, even though he had no idea what that meant. “I’ll be in touch.”

With a polite nod meant to put an end to the conversation, Nicholas turned back to face the group. His gaze immediately landed on Charlie, who seemed to be communicating help me with her eyes.

“Private plane, huh?” a man standing next to Shellie commented. “What kind of plane do you own?”

Like he knew that. He thought back to the last plane he’d chartered.

“Cessna,” Nicholas said.

Silence followed. Nicholas realized pretty much right away that the stranger had expected a little more detail. Was he supposed to be an expert in every inch of the plane he owned? If he wasn’t the pilot, wouldn’t he just leave it parked somewhere between uses?

“You’re taking a Cessna