is becoming much harder than the semi in my pants. “We could go to the opera or ballet. I’m not sure what shows are running on Broadway, but the theater is another option. Walt can book a private viewing at a museum or the Art Institute.”
“Walt?”
“My assistant.”
“Ah, right. I had the privilege of speaking with him last week.”
“He’s been informed to screen your calls moving forward.”
“Spoilsport.” She widens her eyes. “How about a sporting event? Is baseball in season?”
I can feel my upper lip curling. “Yes, it’s July.”
“Don’t take that patronizing tone with me.”
“That’s a hypocritical statement if I’ve ever heard one,” I drawl.
She brushes off my insult with a swat through the air. “Yeah, yeah. I’m a brat. What else is new?”
“That’s the gist of it.”
Vannah clenches her jaw. “Good one.”
“You’re the one suggesting we watch baseball together.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Are you serious?”
“I wouldn’t suggest it otherwise.”
“You’re a conundrum, Savannah Simons.” I comb through my hair. “And a real pain in my ass.”
“Thank you,” she coos. “So, you’re not a sports fan?”
A slow shrug is my initial response. “I’ll watch a game here or there as background static. If that’s what you insist on, I have several boxes at both stadiums.”
“But you just said—”
I hold up a palm. “They’re for company use. My employees take advantage quite regularly, I can assure you.”
“You’re talking about those swanky VIP suites?”
I roll my eyes. “Yes, sugar.”
She makes a face at the nickname, but doesn’t comment on it further. “Those are luxurious. My dad had season tickets with two other firms for a few seasons years ago.”
“Ah, so you’ve seen it.”
“Not in Chicago,” Vannah clarifies.
“Let’s find something more suitable for both our tastes.” I could find much better uses for our time together. Most of them would probably send her running back to Minneapolis.
“Afraid we’ll end up on the kiss cam?”
I stare at her mouth, quiet for longer than she can sit still without fidgeting. “They won’t capture us in the suite.”
“Well, where’s the fun in that?” She puckers her lips in a distracting way. The last thing I need to be thinking about is drowning in her intoxicating warmth. “How about a tour from the river?”
The mention snatches my concentration for a minute. A vision of my father rolling in his grave shortly follows. He’d be preparing his backhand right about now if I dared to suggest such an insane idea. The visceral impact is comparable to a punch in the gut. I suck in a breath, covering the inhale with a cough.
Clarifying is most definitely needed in this instance. “One of those crowded boat cruises?”
Her head bobs. “Yeah, sure.”
“Absolutely not.” The snarl in my tone severs any possibility for arguing.
Vannah doesn’t listen, of course. “I think that would be a fun route to see the city.”
A sour gurgle churns in my stomach. “Once again, I find myself needing to inform you that our versions of fun differ significantly. I can arrange for a private yacht.”
She groans. “Are you dead set on throwing your money around?”
“That’s how I operate, Savannah. We’re not schlepping around on a rented rust-bucket.”
“Your white collar is glowing bright enough to blind me.”
I tug at the item in mention. “Good to know the bleach is doing its duty.”
“Yeah, yeah. That’s real nice.” She pops her lips. “We could go to the observation deck. That building with the glass floor.”
Her suggestion pings off my lacking interest with a clink.
“I already told you we’re going to my office. The view is far better from there.”
“You’re such a highbrow,” she mutters.
“Repeating it won’t make me feel guilty. I’m well aware. This might come as a shock to you, but my status is a symbol to relish in society.”
Vannah collapses against her chair with a huff. “Well, your wealth doesn’t impress me.”
“If I take you to Navy Pier, will that put an end to this misplaced ridicule?”
She gasps. “You’d be willing to lower your standards and be caught in the trenches with the common folk? Think about what this could do to your pristine reputation.”
And the taunting continues. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
“Don’t you have any regular hobbies?”
“Making money.”
She smacks a palm to her forehead. “There has to be something else you’re interested in.”
A dry chuckle escapes me at her dramatics. “I’m a billionaire at the age of twenty-nine. What do you think?”
“Cocky bastard.” She taps her lips. “How about collections? Oh! A hidden library that will make me have a spontaneous orgasm?”