Page 26 of The Billionaires' Gamble

“I’m going to pop out for a few more last ingredients for dinner,” she says.

“Will it keep ’til tomorrow?” I ask.

“Sure.”

“I was just thinking it might be nice to order takeout and rot.”

“Sounds fabulous. If you don’t need anything else, I’ll wrap up the kitchen and get out of your hair.”

A woman who can take a hint. I can see why Gabe hired her.

“Thank you.”

Upstairs, I wander through the rooms. Whoever Gabe’s friend is, he has great taste. Well, he and his designer.

We didn’t really discuss sleeping arrangements, and my more optimistic side half expects Vic to text me at any moment with word that I can go home.

“Optimistic, but not realistic,” I murmur to the empty bedroom. Which is okay. My current reality is lovely.

Setting my things on the edge of the massive tub, I turn on the water and realize I only have the toiletries I bought in Paris. No bubbles, no salts for when I hit the gym too hard.

I open the cabinet to the right of the sink. “What are the chances this guy has—oh thank god.”

There’s a chubby jar of what looks like Epsom salts. My heart lifts, and I reach for the bottle, cracking the cork topper. “Vanilla and lavender. Win.”

A smaller bottle catches my attention. Bath foam. I twist off the cap. Coconut and something fruity. Now we’re talking.

I pour a generous amount into the tub, and a thick foam bubbles up, perfuming the air. Bath time is saved. Time to get naked.

Admiring the rich wood of the closet, I strip out of my clothes. Would it be big enough for all of us? Alex doesn’t strike me as a clothes hog. Gabe, on the other hand... I feel like he could get out of hand quickly now that he’s met Kingston.

The thought of them together, shopping, dressing each other, dressing me, makes me smile. We could get into some serious trouble in this closet. On the island. Or the padded bench.

Back in the bathroom, the tub beckons, fragrant bubbles settling on the surface. I sit on the edge, testing the watertemperature. Next to me, my phone chimes. I roll my eyes but reach for it anyway. As my hand closes around the cool metal and glass, I pause. Why do I always make myself available?

It’s a bad habit, but that knowledge doesn’t stop me from navigating to my texts.

Amelia: Mom says you’ll be staying with us for a while. Looking forward to some sisterly bonding.

I squint at the phone. That does not sound like the teenage girl I know.Sisterly bonding?I snort.

My mother is pulling out all the stops.

Katherine: Sorry to disappoint. I’m staying with a friend.

Three dots immediately appear, then disappear. I can almost imagine my mother fuming, Amelia’s phone in hand, my half-sister hovering, demanding her phone back. Maybe even grabbing for it. Will she ever wake up and see our mother’s true colors?

Blowing out a sigh, I step into the tub and sink into the bubbles. That’s not a concern I’m going to entertain at the moment. Putting my phone on the edge of the massive tub, I drop my head back and stare at the ceiling.

What a wild week. A wild, wonderful week.

It’s been rather delightful to cancel all my meetings and appointments and boring business dinners. I wonder how long it’ll take for the board to regret their decision. My guess? By the end of next week. How quickly a bunch of stick-up-the-rump old men forget who I am and what kind of blood runs in my veins.

They saw the picture of me and Kingston and suddenly realized I’m a woman. I guess that means I was just too good at my job.

I lift my right hand out of the water and blow the tuft of bubbles into the air. They swirl, spiral, and plop back into the bath. There’s something poetic there. Almost prophetic.

Before I let myself go down that particular train of thought, I reach for the bodywash and lather up my hands. It feels like silk against my skin, and my nervous system breathes a sigh of relief. Peace, quiet, me, and the bubbles.