Page 40
Story: Resisting the Billionaire
“A couple days. Mackenzie seemed a little down the last time we spoke and I wanted to make sure she was okay.”
The guilt in me thickens. “I’m fine, Mom.”
“She was probably just busy,” he says. “She’s had a lot of new bookings lately.” He looks over at me, almost sounding… proud. Of me. “But that doesn’t mean she can’t take a day off every now and then. Go,” he insists. “Spend the day with them.”
“But-”
He pulls me aside to the corner by the window. “They came all this way. And you never know-” He pauses, swallowing heavily. “You never know what’s going to happen. You should treasure the time you have with them. They seem like wonderful people.”
“Okay,” I agree faintly, knowing he must have his mom on his mind.
“How about I get you all tickets to something?” he asks the group. “The Guggenheim? Botanical Gardens? What sounds good?”
“Ooh, what about Times Square?” Mom apparently has no problem taking him up on his offer right away. “Those New Year’s Eve parties look so fun on TV.”
“Mom, you don’t need a ticket for that. It’s free to walk around. Besides, it’s Spring.” God, could she sound any more bumpkin?
Gabriel’s answering expression thankfully comes off as more amused than annoyed. “How about the Empire State Building then?” Yep, that’s more the touristy type of thing my mom’s interested in.
“How exciting! Mackenzie never had time to go on our last two visits.”
“I’ll have Vivian set it up,” he tells me. “And how about I take you all to Chez Alexandre’s tonight?”
I bite back the automatic denial of any kind of charity. Chez Alexandre’s is one of the most exclusive restaurants in Manhattan right now. I’d never be able to eat there in a million years otherwise. And it beats my earlier plan of taking my laptop home with me and getting more work done while I heat a frozen meal in the microwave.
Mom gushes at him in thanks and Dad shakes his hand, the two of them wandering into the florist shop after Gabriel asks for a moment alone with me.
“No answering emails today, okay? You deserve a day off. Go act like a tourist and enjoy the city.”
I don’t admit that I’ve never actually gone to the Empire State Building since moving here. Or spent a morning meandering through Central Park like I always intended. Mom’s right. I’ve been too busy.
“You’re being awfully generous.”
He grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “What’s the good in having my dad’s money if I can’t spend it on the people I care about?”
He cares about me?
I mean, he did make sure I was taken care of while sick. And covered for my business. And gave my office a much needed makeover.
Wow, what am I even bringing to the table to repay him?
“Thank you,” I tell him sincerely, suddenly feeling unworthy.
“I’ll text you the reservation time later. See you at dinner.”
He leans in and casually kisses my cheek, nothing untoward about it. The way a friend would.
And yet, my face still burns hot, that particular spot tingling. And I’m fairly sure it’s only my imagination that believes he lingered a beat too long, that my cheek somehow feels different now.
Especially after that dream this morning.
I watch him leave in a daze, barely hearing my mom go on and on about how nice he seemed as I usher her and Dad out of the shop.
“I thought New Yorkers were supposed to be rude. But he was just delightful. His bride is one lucky girl.”
“More than she knows,” I murmur, my chest aching for some reason.
The guilt in me thickens. “I’m fine, Mom.”
“She was probably just busy,” he says. “She’s had a lot of new bookings lately.” He looks over at me, almost sounding… proud. Of me. “But that doesn’t mean she can’t take a day off every now and then. Go,” he insists. “Spend the day with them.”
“But-”
He pulls me aside to the corner by the window. “They came all this way. And you never know-” He pauses, swallowing heavily. “You never know what’s going to happen. You should treasure the time you have with them. They seem like wonderful people.”
“Okay,” I agree faintly, knowing he must have his mom on his mind.
“How about I get you all tickets to something?” he asks the group. “The Guggenheim? Botanical Gardens? What sounds good?”
“Ooh, what about Times Square?” Mom apparently has no problem taking him up on his offer right away. “Those New Year’s Eve parties look so fun on TV.”
“Mom, you don’t need a ticket for that. It’s free to walk around. Besides, it’s Spring.” God, could she sound any more bumpkin?
Gabriel’s answering expression thankfully comes off as more amused than annoyed. “How about the Empire State Building then?” Yep, that’s more the touristy type of thing my mom’s interested in.
“How exciting! Mackenzie never had time to go on our last two visits.”
“I’ll have Vivian set it up,” he tells me. “And how about I take you all to Chez Alexandre’s tonight?”
I bite back the automatic denial of any kind of charity. Chez Alexandre’s is one of the most exclusive restaurants in Manhattan right now. I’d never be able to eat there in a million years otherwise. And it beats my earlier plan of taking my laptop home with me and getting more work done while I heat a frozen meal in the microwave.
Mom gushes at him in thanks and Dad shakes his hand, the two of them wandering into the florist shop after Gabriel asks for a moment alone with me.
“No answering emails today, okay? You deserve a day off. Go act like a tourist and enjoy the city.”
I don’t admit that I’ve never actually gone to the Empire State Building since moving here. Or spent a morning meandering through Central Park like I always intended. Mom’s right. I’ve been too busy.
“You’re being awfully generous.”
He grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “What’s the good in having my dad’s money if I can’t spend it on the people I care about?”
He cares about me?
I mean, he did make sure I was taken care of while sick. And covered for my business. And gave my office a much needed makeover.
Wow, what am I even bringing to the table to repay him?
“Thank you,” I tell him sincerely, suddenly feeling unworthy.
“I’ll text you the reservation time later. See you at dinner.”
He leans in and casually kisses my cheek, nothing untoward about it. The way a friend would.
And yet, my face still burns hot, that particular spot tingling. And I’m fairly sure it’s only my imagination that believes he lingered a beat too long, that my cheek somehow feels different now.
Especially after that dream this morning.
I watch him leave in a daze, barely hearing my mom go on and on about how nice he seemed as I usher her and Dad out of the shop.
“I thought New Yorkers were supposed to be rude. But he was just delightful. His bride is one lucky girl.”
“More than she knows,” I murmur, my chest aching for some reason.
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