The Billionaire Next Door (Billionaire Bad Boys #2)(25)
“Do you know who that was?” Dean’s face was ashen.
Rachel’s eyes went to the man at the end of the bar who she’d just served a Bud Light. She shrugged. “No.”
“Not him,” Dean said. “The guy you handed your key to.”
“I had no idea,” Bree said, awed, her smile a little dreamy.
“Tag?” Rachel was more confused than ever. “He’s my neighbor.”
“Tag Crane,” Dean amended.
“Okay…” Rachel gestured for him to tell her his meaning; then a very big puzzle piece clicked into place. “What?”
“As in Crane Hotels,” Bree said.
“As in the billionaire Cranes. Reese Crane. Tag Crane. Alexander ‘Big’ Crane.” Dean blinked at her in exasperation. “We designed their billboards last year. We’re up for bid on another advertising project for them this year.”
“I know Crane Hotels.” Rachel’s lips felt numb. Tag had said he was in the hotel business. “I’ve heard of Reese Crane…” The billionaire CEO had become a celebrity of sorts after a Twitter scandal last year. She wasn’t into the social scene enough to know more about him.
“Tag is Reese’s brother,” Dean said. “Tag runs the restaurant side of Crane Hotels nationwide.”
“Guest and Restaurant Services,” Rachel murmured, remembering how he’d told her everything, and didn’t at the same time.
Dean nodded. “He owns Crane Tower, too. Where Bree told me you’re temporarily living.”
“He owns it?” Now Rachel’s face was numb.
“Excuse me,” came a request from behind her.
“He owns the building I’m staying in.” Her mind tried to process that information, but a tumbleweed blew across the barren landscape. “My long-haired, bearded neighbor, who closely resembles Tarzan, is a billionaire hotel magnate?”
“Yep,” Dean said, lifting his beer.
“Excuse me, miss?” the customer called again.
“Yes, I’m sorry, be right there.” She snapped out of it, then shook her head at Dean and Bree. “I can’t process this right now.”
Bree started to pull off her coat. “Let me help you back there.”
“No, I’m good.” Rachel forced a smile. “Just…the news surprised me.” To say the least. The man who was intimidating physically had just become intimidating monetarily.
She compartmentalized the newly learned info and responded to customers waving money and holding up fingers to signal they were ready to drink some more. Over the next few hours, the conversation with Dean and Bree receded to the back of her mind.
Until the cab ride home.
Tonight, the sky was spitting and wet and freezing and she refused to walk, no matter how much she needed the exercise. During the short ride, she hadn’t fully wrapped her mind around Tag being Tag Crane: Billionaire.
She chewed on her lip, considering what this changed. Nothing and everything. Why didn’t he tell her? Why wouldn’t he mention he owned the damn building? At her floor, she reached for her keys only to find one missing. The one for the door. Great.
Although maybe…
She twisted the handle and the door opened, which gave her a brief moment of alarm. She didn’t like the idea of leaving Oliver’s house unlocked and open to whomever…
A gasp stole her breath as she spotted a large figure spread from end to end of Oliver’s couch. Somehow—and it had taken some strategy—Tag and Adonis were both sprawled on the sofa, Tag’s arm wrapped around the dog, whose paws were hanging over the edge of the cushions.
Adonis lifted his head, spotted her, and emitted a startled, “Woof!”
When the dog lunged off the couch, Tag opened his eyes, blinking as if he was disoriented, or maybe surprised to find himself still there.
Rachel patted Adonis’s head as he whined happily and nudged her hard enough that she nearly lost her balance.
“I was worried you’d left the door unlocked on accident,” she told Tag.
“No.” He sat up, pulled his hands over his face. One lamp was lit in the corner, creating a soft, yellow glow on the disheveled man in the living room. He pulled his hands over his hair and expertly twisted it into a low man bun like he’d done it a million times.
Or a billion times, she mentally corrected, remembering what she’d learned about him tonight.
“You’re a Crane,” she said, deciding to take a page from his book and blurt out what she was thinking. He didn’t filter much. She could learn a thing or two from him.
Elbows on his knees, he blinked tiredly at her and nodded. “Yeah. I’m a Crane.” He stood and walked to where she stood. “Adonis went out about”—he squinted past her to read the clock in the kitchen—“thirty minutes ago. So that’ll save you having to take him out in this mess.” He surveyed her damp coat. “Hope you took a car.”
“I did.”
“Good.”
“We’re not going to talk about it?” How he could gloss over the fact that he technically owned every square foot of space she now stood on?
He took her purse from her shoulder, pulled off her coat, and tossed both onto a nearby chair. Then he looked at her, as calm and patient as he ever was.