Page 85 of The Thing About My Secret Billionaire

She knows I’ve always loved how close and boisterous her family is, and that my life with parents who worked every hour they could to earn enough to get by has always felt isolated in comparison.

I gaze down into my drink and shrug. “Maybe.”

“Then maybe”—she takes my fingers and gives them a squeeze—“he’s everything you’ve been waiting for your whole life.”

“What I’ve been waiting for is to be financially independent and able to have a goodstandard of living without working myself to the bone every hour of the day.”

“Didn’t you already get that?” Paige lets go of my hand and sits straighter. “If your salary isn’t enough to make you comfortable enough to enjoy life, you’ve got bigger problems than how to make that sanctuary solvent.”

“But I want to be the VP of digital marketing.”

“Why?”

“To stop Dickish Darren from getting it.” For a second, my knee-jerk answer baffles me. Is that who I’ve become? Someone who wants something just to stop someone they don’t like from having it?

“I mean, of course I’d rather sleep in a pile of donkey dung than have him as my boss.”

There has to be another reason, though. A reason that the corporate version of me wants a bigger job with a bigger salary.

“And because it’s the next step,” I add. Yes, that’s the reason. “The next rung on the ladder.”

And suddenly that feels like a pathetic answer.

“I’ll give you the Darren thing,” she says. “But I’m not sure you’ve ever paused for a second to realize you’ve already achieved your goal. Great job with a great salary with one of the coolest furniture stores in the country. And where you met the bestest best friend you could ever have wished for.” She tips her head and gives me an exaggerated grin.

“Not sure about the last one.” I take a sip of wine.

“Just because you don’t want to hear anything about maybe taking your foot off the gas for a moment to smell the flowers and enjoy the hot rich guy with the magic dick doesn’t mean I’m wrong.” She folds her arms across her chest. “And I’ve tried so hard not to harp on about it, but ithas to be said—the very best financial decision you can make for the sanctuary is to sell it.”

Just the mention of that makes my stomach turn in on itself.

I shake my head. “I can’t do that to Grandpa.”

“So what’s the long-term plan?” ever-practical Paige asks. “Even when your grandpa’s recovered, he’s not going to be…well, you know, strong enough to take care of it by himself for forever.”

“I have to hope that by then it’s financially sound enough to support enough staff to run it.”

“That’s going to take—” She pauses, and I have to look away. “Some time,” she adds quietly.

My phone vibrates in front of me. I flip it over to see a notification that the car to take me to the airport will be here in five minutes. “Time’s up.”

“Well, at least think about enjoying yourself before you come back here to wipe the floor with Dickish Darren.”

“Maybe.”

I get to my feet, throw my overnight bag over my shoulder, give Paige a big hug, and head out on my journey back to the man who I, terrifyingly, seem to want arelationshipwith.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

MILLER

Holy fucking shit, this rain is like needles against my skin.

I hold the hood of my work jacket tight around my face, drop my chin to my chest and run toward the big donkeys’ paddock.

It looks like the miniatures are all inside already, so I’ll get to them in a minute.

But three of the big ones are not being so smart and are still out in the field getting soaked and cold, which makes them priority number one.