Dirty Rumor: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance(27)

“Oh, and Schell, don’t even think about—shit!”

I skid to a stop, my hand on his shoulder, just in time to keep from running him down.

“Son!” he says, laughing, and claps his hand against my shoulder. “Where the hell are you going at such a high speed? Don’t tell me you’ve discovered a passion for advising.”

“Maybe I have,” I say, sticking my hands into my pockets. “Sorry about that.”

My father looks just like me, only he’s twenty-five years older and a silver fox. His smile is as genuine as they come. At least he doesn’t think I’m a killer. Although it’s possible he hasn’t heard anything out of Italy either. If his board members haven’t brought it up, he likely doesn’t care. My father’s business is his life. I rank pretty high up there, but the main thing is that I don’t hurt the business. I don’t resent him for that, but my throat tightens. I hope this shit somehow stays in Italy. I hope it doesn’t get to New York. I don’t want to put that on his plate.

It’s not true, of course. Only one thing about that situation is true. But I would feel like shit if it damaged his enterprise in any way. Me? I can recover. My investments are rock solid. But he’s been known to take a risk with the stock market here and there, and….

I open my mouth to say something, but there’s nothing I can say right now—not coherently, at least. My marriage to Elisa wasn’t a family celebration. It was more a matter of necessity, and now that she’s gone, I don’t want to give my father the punch to the gut of knowing that he wasn’t at my wedding, even if it was just a—

He throws his arm around my shoulders and turns me back in the direction I came from. “Let’s get the hell out of here, son,” he says jovially.

“Wait—what? I don’t have—” I don’t have anything, aside from my wallet. My phone is locked in my desk. I want to send Carolyn a message so badly I can practically feel it underneath my fingers.

“Your phone? Leave it! We’re going to lunch.”

“I scheduled a meeting for—”

He waves his hand in the air. “It can wait another twenty minutes. I’m taking my son out to lunch, and we’re going to have a goddamn conversation. No phones. Let’s go!”

“All right,” I say, plastering a smile on my face.

“What?” my father says, leaning in, grinning. “You in love with a girl, is that it? Can’t wait another hour to talk to her?”

My mouth drops open as his words sink in.

“No,” I choke out, finally.

It’s the biggest lie I’ve ever told, because now that my father has said it—even if he was only kidding—I have no choice but to accept it.

I’ve fallen for Carolyn Banks.





Chapter 25

Carolyn





I have never been so damn conflicted in my entire life.

There are multiple forces pulling me in every direction, the least of them all is the boutique.

I take one day off and foot traffic skyrockets. No idea why, but the first thing I do when I get in on Tuesday morning is have Natalie and Sarah overhaul the displays in the front window to show off some of our newest arrivals. There’s a surge in customers around the lunch hour, and I stay on the floor to help move product.

Natalie doesn’t think I should stoop so low as to actually wait on customers.

She stops in the midst of rushing back to the dressing room with another armload of clothes. “Carolyn, you don’t have to stay out here with us. We can handle it!”

I give her a smile and shake my head. “What, just because I own the place, you think I should be in the back counting money?” I would never tell Natalie that I’m not passionate about my boutique—it’s a fun project that happens to be successful—but even so, I’m not going to put my feet up while everyone else does the dirty work. With a wink and a dismissive wave of my hand, I send her on her way and turn to face two women who look like they’ve walked directly out of the Victoria’s Secret catalogue into my boutique. “Welcome, ladies. Is there anything I can direct you toward today?”

“Yes!” chirps the brunette. “I’m looking for a dress that can go from day to evening.”

“I have the perfect thing for you.” I lead her back toward a rack that’s purposefully filled with pieces that could—but don’t necessarily have to—form a stunning, eclectic outfit.

The rest of the afternoon passes by in a blur, the cash register ringing nonstop.

“This is incredible,” Natalie whispers to me when I come around behind the counter with another customer’s purchases. “Have you ever seen this much traffic before?”

“No,” I say, then laugh. “Maybe all I had to do was go away for the day.”

“It definitely wasn’t like this yesterday.”

She has a good point. What is bringing people in like this?

Just before close, I ask a girl with gorgeous auburn hair what brought her to the boutique today.

She looks at me with a strange half smile. “You’re—I mean, I’m so sorry if this sounds creepy—but you’re Carolyn Banks, right?”

“I am.” I return the smile, then wait. If she wants to tell me more, she will. In the meantime, I pull another blouse off the rack and hold it up for her approval.