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“My apologies, Blaise. I wanted to hear your voice. It’s been what, six months since we last spoke?”

“Three, Mr. Stassi,” Granger answers for me.

We’ve been together long enough that he can finish my sentences. I also finish his, which he finds annoying but doesn’t think the same when he does it.

“Six months. Three months. It’s all the same when the outcome is the same, is it not, Blaise?”

Maddox chuckles, and the deep sound elicits a strange and foreign response from my neck down. My nipples ache, and the place between my legs throbs. I move my hands from behind my back and clasp them in front of my body, but that doesn’t take away the ache or the throbbing.

“The answer will be a firm no every time, sir.” To selling him my sports car. “Now, please, move along. Otherwise, I will escort you out.”

Maddox has the good sense and the common decency not to make a scene, and moves along in line. I exhale the breath I was holding.

“Interesting chap,” Grandfather says for my ears only.

I agree.

As soon as Maddox handed off to one of my bodyguards a slip of paper offering to buy my arctic white X-R 85 for a ridiculous sum of money, Granger went digging for everything he could find, including the women Maddox is involved with, in case we need to use the information as leverage.

The leverage thing is Granger’s philosophy on dealing with “unpleasantries.” Granger grew up in the foster care system, and lucky him, the homes he was placed in were a dog-eat-dog living situation. He had to get creative as well as ruthless if he wanted to eat or survive the backstabbing happening with his other foster brothers.

Granger takes his place behind me, and I give this leverage philosophy some thought, acknowledging my guests with a small smile or a nod. I don’t encourage them by smiling too brightly. Otherwise, they’ll approach my more approachable bodyguards and strike up a conversation that we as a group are not interested in having. Not tonight, anyway.

Marco’s sister is in the hospital, and he wants me there when he becomes an uncle for the first time. My presence is also expected because my best friend, Sylvia, from boarding school, chose me as her baby girl’s godmother.

I glance off to the side the same time Maddox looks over his shoulder. Our gazes meet, and for some reason, the thought of a baby doesn’t leave my brain. I tear my gaze from the coldness in his gorgeous eyes. He’s a man used to getting what he wants, and he’s been wanting my sports car “Betty” for a year now.

Men like Maddox are the reason my team spread the rumor that Granger is my lover. When rebuffed, the men can get nasty. They send me distasteful messages through snail mail. Some are so godawful, Granger puts the letters through the shredder. Or the men will leer if I so much as smile their way in an attempt to be friendly rather than the “ice queen” they’ve labeled me as.

Whether I smile or give them a slight dip of my head, acknowledging but not encouraging them, I’m in a lose-lose situation. Granger thinks the best way to deal with the men’s advances and their glares is to marry.

Ha! This girl doesn’t believe in the institution of marriage, though my parents were role models for love, happiness, and commitment. I might only be twenty going on twenty-one, but marriage requires touching as well as conversation. I’m not good at either, and that’s the reason Granger and I get along so well. We rarely talk, but boy, when we do, watch out, world: we have a lot to say.

And touching? Yep, out of the question, and that means marriage isn’t in my foreseeable future. I would rather lose my billions than get married.

Famous last words.