The Last Eligible Billionaire(44)

“Quite obviously so,” Hayes says behind me, startling me so badly that I drop the phone. When I recover it, all I can see is Hyacinth’s textured ceiling, suggesting that she, too, has dropped her phone.

Her face pops back into view, eyes wide, mouth gaping open. “Oh my god, it’s you.”

“Your tea, darling.” He sets a steaming mug on a small picnic table tucked in amongst the wildflowers, then drapes an arm around my shoulders and kisses my temple. “Hyacinth, I presume. Lovely to meet you. From a safe distance. I’m off to bed, darling. Don’t be long, and don’t let your tea get cold.”

He lifts a hand and waves to my sister, then disappears behind me again.

“You should see your face,” Hyacinth whispers.

“You should see yours,” I whisper back.

“Make sure to tell him I’ll kill him if he hurts you. And then go jump his bones, okay?”

I nod, even though there will be no bone-jumping.

Him moving into the other bedroom made that very clear.

I manage to get off the phone without Hyacinth catching on that this is all just for show.

But I’m starting to wish my heart would remember that part.

He made me tea.

Chad never made me tea.

And Hayes Rutherford isn’t my soulmate.

But he’s doing a damn good job of resetting my standards in the meantime.





17





Hayes



Leaving Maine and returning to New York is inconvenient at best and a disaster-in-the-making at worst. We’ve barely touched down in Albany before I’m itchy for coastal air and lunch in a colorful lobster shack with townspeople who proved themselves nearly as adept at helping me maintain my privacy as my very well-trained security staff.

“Where’s the Empire State Building?” Begonia has her nose pressed to the window of my private jet, peering out onto the small private airfield. “Are we facing the wrong way?”

It takes my head of security murmuring to her that we’re not in the city, but rather upstate, for me to realize I was unclear. “Razzle Dazzle’s corporate offices moved out of Manhattan several years back in an effort to give our employees more space for their families to live and play,” I tell her.

She frowns. Marshmallow, who’s in a bright purple vest and has been almost well-behaved the whole flight, also frowns. “Because they didn’t want to live in the city, or because it’s all about appearances?”

“Yes.” I rise and gather my coat. “And it also significantly reduced the burden of real estate upkeep costs. I have to get straight to the offices. Nikolay will escort you to Sagewood House.”

“Can we detour somewhere fun in Albany, or do I have to go straight there to drop off my luggage?”

“Correction. Nikolay will see to it that your bags are delivered to Sagewood House, where I will meet you this evening, and he’ll accompany you anywhere you’d like to go between now and then.”

Her smile shines brighter than her hair. “Can I see your offices?”

“You’d be bored to tears amidst the gray walls and suits, my dear bluebell. Go explore the art exhibits and museums by the river.” I nod to Nikolay. “Make sure the staff is aware that Marshmallow needs extra supervision.”

The man’s lips twitch. “Naturally, sir.”

I make a show of kissing her goodbye, which I enjoy more than I’ll admit even to myself, before tucking her into the first of two limousines waiting at the edge of the taxiway. She’s breathless, with pink staining her cheeks and her pupils fully dilated when I close the door myself.

If my dick wasn’t hard as a goddamn rock, I’d be preening like a fucking peacock right now.

I turn and open the door once again, lean in for a final kiss, and whisper, “My uncle is also in residence at Sagewood House, so we’ll be sharing a bedroom again. Until tonight, my dear bluebell.”

She squeaks.

I shut the limo door again, and I stride to the vehicle waiting behind it. When I slide into the rear seat, Razzle Dazzle’s vice president of operations’ executive assistant, Therese, crosses her legs beneath her pencil skirt and gives me a smile that sets my teeth on edge.

“Good morning, Mr. Rutherford. How do you like your coffee? I’ll text ahead and have it waiting. Your nine-thirty has been rescheduled to six, your mother made a reservation at The Brunch Café for you at one, we’ve combed through the applicants for your own executive assistant as requested and scheduled interviews for you starting at two, and Mr. Okimoto requires a word as soon as we arrive.”

“Cancel the six o’clock, cancel lunch with my mother, forward me the candidates’ resumes, and call my uncle Antonio and inform him he’s moving into Sagewood House for the next two weeks. Also, tell anyone you’re talking to Antonio, and I’ll have you fired.”

She bites the end of her stylus and studies me for a long moment before dropping it back to her tablet and casually brushing her long hair back, pushing her breasts up as she does so. She’s technically not my executive assistant, but that won’t stop me from issuing orders. “Of course, Mr. Rutherford. And your coffee?”

“I don’t know. Call my girlfriend and ask her.”

“Her phone number, Mr. Rutherford?”