Page 118 of The Thing About My Secret Billionaire

“Excuse me,” I call, jumping out of the truck.

Nothing.

I repeat it, louder.

Still nothing.

There’s a gap in the chain-link fence that I can just fit through. So I do.

“Excuse me,” I say again as I approach the back of the man on the ground.

His head whips around, shocked. “Miss, you can’t be in here. This is a hard hat area.”

“I just wondered what was going on,” I say. “Did the Windwoods sell the barn? Has someone bought it? Is it being torn down?”

“Miss, I have to ask you to leave.” He stretches out an arm to direct me, without touching me, back the way I came.

As I turn, the writing on the side of one of the vans parked alongside the barn comes into view.

My blood runs cold. Well, what’s left of it that hasn’t sunk to my feet. There’s sure as hell none left in my brain because I’m lightheaded as all hell.

I read the words again, as if they might say something different this time.

But no.

Maverick Developments.

“Fuck. No.”

“Are you okay, miss?” I imagine the guy must think I’m overreacting to him trying to get me to leave, but I can’t look at him because I can’t tear my eyes off the lettering and logo on the van. I scan it over and over, multiple times a second, and every time it says Maverick Developments.

“Is he fucking serious?”

I don’t even realize I’ve said it out loud until the guy says, “Who?” Then, in his best calm-down-ma’am voice, “Let’s go talk about it on the other side of the fence.”

Maybe he thinks I’m some sort of eco protestor, here to throw red paint over them all or something.

“Do you work for Maverick Developments?” I ask him.

“Yes,” he says. “Now if you could just?—”

“You work for Miller Malone?”

“He’s the owner of the company, miss. So yes.”

“And you’re tearing down this barn, this barn that means something to people here, that’s full of so many memories? And to put up what? A bunch of shitty faceless townhomes?”

“Let’s just get you out of the danger zone.” He sounds like a very patient nurse trying to get an objectionable old patient to swallow pills they don’t want to take.

“Please don’t patronize me.” I take two steps toward the fence, fury having taken up full residence in my pounding chest. “You are all the fucking same. What’s wrong with you? What makes you think you can come into our beautiful town, our countryside, and wreck it, just so you can stuff your pockets with a few more million? What’s wrong with you all? What’s wrong withhim?”

“I’ve only met Mr. Malone once, and he seemed like a very nice man,” the probably very nice man in front of me says.

“No nice person would do what he’s done.” That came out a lot louder than I intended. “No nice person would find out they can’t wreck one beautiful piece of land, so they decide to wreck another instead. And definitely not when they know how much it means to me.”

My voice cracks on the last word.

Miller knows how much the memories in this barn mean tome, and yet he’s doing this anyway.