Page 4 of Just The Way You Aren’t (Last Billionaire Standing #1)

DAMIEN

“ I can’t believe I agreed to this,” I mutter as I finish straightening my tie, so it is precisely centered. I open my drawer of cufflinks to add to my suit ensemble and note that the pair I am looking for is not in the spot it usually occupies.

With a frown, I open the drawer below, only to find that Eliza, the upstairs maid, has begun a silent organization war with me once again.

I have a system for my cufflinks that she doesn’t understand.

She prefers to sort them by color. I prefer to sort them by formality.

My less formal cufflinks should be in the top drawer, while the fancier ones belong below.

Now, the gold ones are clustered together, next to platinum and white gold, while emerald is in a militant square next to sapphire and ruby.

I can’t fault her organization skills; it is style where we differ.

“Damn you, Eliza,” I grumble, searching out the pair of platinum cufflinks inscribed with the letter L that I’d been looking for. I was going to have to have another talk with her. One where she pretends not to know English very well. Oh yes, Eliza is a wily one. But I’ve got her number.

Even though I’ve left myself plenty of time, the cufflink search has set me back three minutes and I am not pleased. I hurry down to my Mercedes, thinking of the three— three —meetings Rhonda had to reschedule so I could clear a full half of my day to be with this Willow Harper person.

My eye tics. I’m starting to think it’s going to be permanent. If it is, I’m naming it Alfred in honor of my sworn enemy on the board.

The lights are not in my favor as I drive across the city to get to the Silver Hearts offices in Washington Heights.

Or, rather, office. Apparently, the whole organization manages to mobilize from one office.

Given the number of services they provide, I find this mind-boggling.

My grip tightens on the steering wheel as the car in front of me manages to creep through the light, but leaves me stuck on red.

A red-haired woman on a bicycle crosses gracefully in a skirt that threatens to get tangled in her gears. I look around at the surrounding traffic, not to mention the questionable neighborhood, and wonder if she’s out of her mind.

Suddenly, she stops right at the median, her back tire jutting right out into traffic.

I groan and press my forehead to my steering wheel.

Given the tightness of our lanes, I won’t be able to pass her without getting a scratch on my new Mercedes, either from her or the old Chevy Nova next to me.

I blink at the Nova. I didn’t know there were any still running.

Hadn’t they stopped building that car in the 80s?

A car honks loudly behind me and I glance up, looking at the now green light. I tap my horn twice in warning to the woman on the median, but instead of moving, she waves at me.

What the hell does she want?

I roll down my window. “Miss,” I shout over the honking. “You’re blocking traffic!”

She bends down and I am momentarily mesmerized by the most perfect ass I’ve ever seen, encased in a flowing skirt. My mouth waters. How long has it been since I’ve gotten laid? Not since the Guardian Productions deal has been in the works.

The honking finally brings me out of my reverie and the air quality isn’t exactly great here in the middle of traffic, so I roll my window back up and tap my horn again.

She scoops something up off the median and waves frantically again.

With a sigh and a feeling of trepidation, I roll down my window again. “Miss?—”

“Help!” she cries, holding up a… kitten.

A kitten? All this fuss over a kitten? “Lady,” I finally say, losing all semblance of patience. “You’re blocking traffic!”

She puts a hand on one hip, the other cuddling the kitten close to her chest. A very nice chest in her flowy blouse, I might add. “Please?” she asks impatiently.

I’m going to regret this. I’m going to be late, and I’m going to regret this.

But, with a sound of frustration, I inch forward and wave her out of the way a bit so I can move near the curb.

Vehicle horns blast from behind me, along with shouts from angry drivers telling me to get moving.

I ignore the cacophony, but my irritation is climbing with every second I’m delayed here.

“What’s wrong?” I demand, my widow still rolled down. “What do you need help with? ”

She smiles pleasantly. “I don’t have a basket on my bicycle and I need to get this kitten to the shelter. I was hoping I could lock up my bike and we could take your car?”

I blink at her, incredulous. “I don’t want that filthy cat in my Mercedes.”

“It’s not a cat. It’s a kitten. Look at that little face.” She pushes the scraggly gray kitten through my window.

The kitten looks about as excited to see me as I am to see it. In fact, after a quick once-over, the kitten hisses at me.

“Aw, baby, be nice to the nice man,” the woman coos, bringing the kitten back to her ample bosom.

I must be staring at her ample bosom and not the kitten when I think about Alfred’s words and my drowning public image, and then I proceed to lose my mind. “All right. Fine. Let’s get that bike parked and locked somewhere, and then we can take the cat to the shelter.”

The way she beams at me, like the sun rising in the east on a spring morning after a long winter, makes it all worth it. “Turn onto that alley right there. The bodega at the corner has a chain-link fence in the alley I can lock my bike to,” she says, then hurries off to retrieve her bicycle.

So, she’s a local. That’s a sad turn of events. It’s like watching a dandelion poking up through the crack in an unforgiving cement sidewalk. She just doesn’t belong… here.

I could put her in a palace of an apartment.

I shake my head vigorously to clear it. “Fine. I’ll meet you in the alley,” I promise. I’ve already committed to this nonsense so I have to see it through. Somehow, she’s gotten me to squeeze her into my schedule.

This is unprecedented.

Still, shaking my head at myself, I creep forward and turn off the main road. By the time I get parked—praying my Mercedes still has tires by the time I get out of it—the woman is struggling with a massive lock she’s put on a heavy chain, threaded through the fence.

I walk over and see the lock has recently been greased. I think of my suit and grimace.

“I just oiled this thing, too,” she mutters, still fighting the lock. One-handed, because of the kitten.

The minutes tick by. I’m going to be late.

“Here, I’ve got it.” I lean over her, smelling a lovely strawberry scent, and wrangle the lock closed. When it clicks, she looks up at me and smiles. It reaches all the way to her beautiful hazel eyes.

“Thanks,” she says softly.

You’d think I was Superman the way she looks at me. I find myself smiling back at her and don’t even mind too much when I have to pull out a handkerchief. I’m about to wipe my own hands when I see hers, and gallantly hand over my Hermès silk handkerchief.

“Aw, you’re sweet.” She hands me the kitten.

It hisses immediately and digs its tiny dagger claws into my very expensive Armani suit jacket.

Fuck. Now I’m late for my meeting and my jacket is snagged. I frown at the woman, but she’s still bright and sunny and radiating cheerfulness. So I swallow my grumpiness and, reluctantly, cup my hands around the dirty furball.

It stops hissing at me and looks up with very blue eyes. His expression says I’ve lost my mind.

He’s not wrong.

“Ohh, he likes you!” The woman sighs, petting the kitten’s head and stroking my hand a bit by proxy. The current of heat that travels through me at even that brief contact takes me aback .

The kitten purrs. I’m surprised I don’t as well. I sure as hell want to.

“Let’s go.” She gently takes the kitten from me and settles him against her chest once more.

The kitten gives me a smug look as he snuggles into her bosom. Lucky asshole.

I quickly remember my manners and go to open the passenger door for the woman. She gives me another sunny smile. I close my door on her skirt. Wincing, I open the door again.

Her laughter is even more infectious than her smile and I find myself chuckling as well. Like an idiot.

“Here.” She tucks her skirt into the car. “That should help.”

“Thanks.” I run around to the other side of the Mercedes and get in the driver’s seat, grateful the car hasn’t been messed with at all. “So,” I say. “Where to?”

“That way. Take a left in two blocks,” she replies.

I have to wait several time-gobbling minutes in order to find an opening in traffic, then again to shift to the lefthand lane. But I get there, and we get to the shelter shortly thereafter. It’s a building that appears to be leaning on the one next to it.

This neighborhood could really use some upgrades.

The woman bounces out of the car with the kitten in her arms. “You coming?” she asks.

I was just going to wait in the car for her, but now, I decide I will go in. Still worrying about my car getting hijacked, I lock it just the same and walk away from it in favor of following the red-haired dose of liquid sunshine into the shelter.

The kitten blinks at me, just as surprised as I am.

“Hey, Jane,” the woman says just as soon as I open the door for her. “I’ve got another one for you. Poor thing was on the median on my way to work. Can you believe no one stopped? Except this nice man here. I wasn’t sure he would help, but then he did, and he even drove us here. Didn’t he, Pixie?”

Oh God. She’s named the cat already.

I look at Pixie and wonder how a boy cat is going to feel about that name.

He just purrs happily in the woman’s arms.

“Pixie. What a sweet name. Say, how are Mrs. Baumgartner and Mr. Katz?” Jane asks.

“Cute as ever,” she responds. With a sad sigh, she hands Pixie across the desk to Jane. “They’re still waiting for their portable oxygen units.”

“That’s sad.” Jane shakes her head. “But you work miracles at that organization, let me tell you.”

“I just wish I could make the Medicare cogs turn faster,” she replies in frustration.

My Apple Watch flashes. It’s time for my meeting with the Executive Director of Silver Hearts. Actually, I should already be there. And I’m not. Because of this… distraction. I growl softly and tap my foot.

The two women look at me.

“Sorry,” I grunt. “I’m late for an appointment.”

“Oh!” the woman gasps. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Jane, I’ll see you later!”

“See you soon,” Jane agrees, giving me a dirty look.

Apparently, I’ve interrupted her social life. Well, Jane’s interrupting my very important meeting so she can stuff her attitude.

The red-haired woman hurries past me and out the door before I can open it for her. She all but leaps into my Mercedes. “I’m ready!” she announces .

I get behind the wheel and navigate us, as quickly as possible, back to her bike. Though she is still as sunshiny as ever, I can’t get the dark cloud to leave my mind. I’m late. Damn it. I’m never late.

She stops talking after she realizes I’m not engaging anymore, and I feel a little bad about that, but I’m on a mission now. I need to get to my appointment, and fast. The last thing I need is to give Alfred and the board any more reason to doubt me.

“Can you handle the lock on your own?” I ask gruffly when I drop her off at the mouth of the alley.

“Absolutely,” she smiles. “Thank you again for helping me and Pixie.”

“You’re welcome,” I grunt. I watch her to make sure she gets to her bike and gets it unlocked, even though I should be on my way. I just don’t want to leave her alone to get jumped.

Once the bike is unlocked and she’s astride it again, she waves to me and goes on her way.

I sigh and turn the car around at the light, traffic still as bad as ever. I only realize then that I never got her name.

No matter. It’s not as though I’m ever going to run into her again. I pull up in front of the Silver Hearts office, another listing building, and park my car next to a meter that… still accepts coins?

Do I have coins?

“It’s broken, anyway,” a helpful voice says, opening the modest office’s front door for me. “Hi, I’m Abby. I’m afraid Willow isn’t in yet. She got held up.”

Figures. I go inside the office and decline to sit in the sticky-looking pleather chairs. I’m just tapping my foot impatiently, when I hear a trill of laughter.

No, I think to myself. There’s absolutely no way….