Page 87 of The Elusive Billionaire

When we arrive, Brax and Grant are already in front of cameras. I’m starting to regret not having Braxton as a partner. I feel ill-prepared for these vipers, and it’s not something I’m comfortable with.

I’m always prepared.

As soon as Roman and I step up behind our brothers, the questions start, and the crowd moves closer. Braxton and Grant back away and allow us to take center stage.

Within moments, the civilized reporters turn into raging lunatics, all crushing each other to get as close as possible.

“Greyson, how do you feel about being called ‘the elusive billionaire’?”

“Greyson, it’s your first scandal since the death of your sister. What do you think she’d have to say about your future bride?”

“Did you meet Savannah in a strip club?”

“Is this a ‘Pretty Woman’ love story?”

Jesus Christ, these people are idiots.

Roman is the one to step in front of the podium with his hands spread wide, an angry tilt to his lips that can’t quite be classified as a smile. “Back up, or we’re done here.”

“Don’t lose yer cool, mate.” Cian steps up beside me, and I do a double take.

“What are you doing here, and what the fuck are you wearing?” He’s in head-to-toe Hawaiian prints, and his top doesn’t even match the bottoms.

“If you think I’m letting Elle roam around in that tiny fecking dress you gave her without me standing guard, then you’re a bubbletwit too,” he says quietly.

“I didn’t give them those dresses. The PR lady did.”

“Who’s this shite?” Cian nods his head toward Roman.

“Not as bad as I originally thought,” I admit.

“All right, then. Keep yer cool. Savvy’s keeping hers even with these feckers after her.”

“They’re not supposed to be heckling her. The press is for golfers only.”

“Ya think that matters to these ass goblins? That Quinn person said the same thing, and yet Sav’s cart has had a steady stream of oxygen thieves for the past hour.”

“Cian.” I pinch the bridge of my nose while Roman answers some generic question about a pop star their security company is charged with guarding. “Your vocabulary never fails to astound me.” Lowering my voice, I ask, “Is she okay? How’s she handling the pressure?”

“She hasn’t punched anyone yet, so better than I’d’a done. Pops is keeping them on their toes, so it’s possible he’s confusing them enough with his own questions that they haven’t hit too hard yet.”

“Having her here was a mistake.”

“I agree. You sure that Kristen woman’s the best at what she does? I wanted to tell her to feck off outta here at least twenty times already.”

“Yeah. Quinn sent me her CV.” I undo the top button of my golf shirt. “Cian, can you…do me a favor?”

He claps me on the back so hard I’ll feel the sting for days. “Already doin’ it. Moose and I are taking turns keeping tabs on all four women. Only stepped over here ’cause it looked like you might need a bodyguard.” He points to Roman. “Not as good as I’d have done, but better than nothing.” He smirks, then retreats to wherever the girls are.

At least they must be close by. This is going to be a long-ass day.

I find Braxton at the second stand with a few old-school reporters patiently waiting their turn, while I’m stuck with the rabid ones of the social media age who wouldn’t know how to wait for something if their life depended on it.

With a sigh, I step up next to Roman, who raises his brow at me. I nod, then turn to the spectacle before us.

“I’ll only say this once.” My voice carries over their heads, and they fall silent, waiting for me to continue. “If one of you disrespects my fiancée, you’ll not only be removed from the grounds, but you’ll be banned from working with any Omni-Reyes company for life. I expect you to behave like humans instead of leeches and show some respect for the woman I love.”

Roman chuckles beside me but then steps in as if he’s my press secretary and calls on reporters one at a time.