Marrying My Billionaire Hookup - Nadia Lee Page 0,55

before would think he’s a nice, affable fellow. The kind of man you want to be pals with.

But I know Rick. He’s a pretty well-known character in the city for his talent in finding expensive homes that make a statement. That means his services are in high demand among a lot of rich people. He’s done work for Kim’s boss and his family. Unless I’m mistaken, he’s also working for Kim and her man Wyatt to find them a suitable home.

However, not everyone knows about his amazing ability to push clients into decisions he wants them to make. Combine that with a high amount of avarice, and he’s the kind of realtor you have to be careful around. Otherwise you’ll end up with something that’s too expensive even if it makes a statement you like.

“So. I understand you’re looking for a nice place for the two of you.” Rick looks at me and Edgar.

Shit. That must’ve come from Edgar. I’m still in no territory, but I’d rather not argue in front of Rick. The man gossips worse than a retired church lady…unless discretion can get him money.

On the other hand, I don’t want him telling everyone I’m moving in with Edgar. So I settle for a neutral, non-argumentative response.

“Edgar is mainly the one making the decision,” I say with a thin smile. “He doesn’t have a place in the city.”

At the same time, Edgar says, “Yes.”

“Perfect.” Rick’s expression doesn’t change. He knows which one of us has the money. “I’ve prepped a few properties. I’m sure you’ll be thrilled with any of them.” He opens the back door with a flourish.

Edgar and I slip inside, and Rick slips behind the wheel and drives off. I lean over and whisper, “You found him on Google, really?”

Edgar nods gravely.

“Well, that’s funny. Because Rick doesn’t advertise.” He doesn’t need to. People who need to Google to find a realtor are not his clientele. All his clients come to him through referrals.

Edgar starts to open his mouth, then immediately schools his features so they’re back to being calm again. Well, at least he isn’t good at covering up lies. That’s a plus, as far as I’m concerned.

“You know, I was thinking that security is going to be paramount with a beautiful young woman living there,” Rick says.

Oh, for God’s sake. He shouldn’t even try to butter me up. He knows I’m not going to be flattered, and I know him too well to fall for it.

“Of course,” Edgar says, turning to Rick a bit too eagerly. “A gated community, with tall walls and maybe even barbed wire on top. Preferably with private security.”

Ugh. That sounds like Ryder Reed’s fortress. I’ve been there a few times to help with his wife’s wardrobe.

“No moat. And no K9 security patrols. I like it quiet,” I add with sarcasm.

“Most certainly.” Edgar’s placidly agreeable. “Noise pollution is bad for pregnant women, and I wouldn’t want anything to upset you in the next nine months.”

Oh shit. Rick glances at me in the rearview mirror. By the end of the day, everyone in the city’s going to know.

“You’re pregnant?” he asks.

“Why did you say that in front of him?” I hiss.

“There’s no way to hide the bump. Everyone’s going to know.” Edgar isn’t being petty or passive-aggressive. He actually seems confused by my question. “Besides, shouldn’t he know so he can recommend something suitable?”

But he said four months, not forever. How long is he planning to stay in L.A.? And what if his attempt at dealing with my second objection fails? He’s going to be stuck with an expensive piece of real estate in a city he doesn’t even live in!

“We need a place that’s safe for a young child,” Edgar says. “I won’t accept anything less.”

Rick licks his lips in a nervous gesture. “Of course.”

“And I expect you to be discreet,” Edgar adds.

“Most certainly. Discretion’s my middle name.” Rick shoots us his best “You can count on me” smile.

I roll my eyes.

The first home he takes us to is a nine-bedroom house. It’s called a house only because the lot isn’t quite big enough to be categorized as a mansion, at least not in L.A.

Edgar walks with me. Rick hovers, gesturing and explaining.

“The pool is intimate and comes with a cottage that you can use for guests if you’d rather not have them in your home,” he says. “There’s a tennis court as well if you enjoy the sport.” His gaze flicks to my belly. “Although you should consult a