The Last Eligible Billionaire(48)

But I’ve never wondered if I would’ve realized it wasn’t what I was supposed to do if Dad hadn’t had to sell it.

I’ve always assumed I would’ve happily taken over running the summer camp, but that it wasn’t in the cards from the universe.

And now I’m wondering if Hayes was born to do great things not related to Razzle Dazzle Studios.

Is he trapped? Does he feel obligated? Is he misreading the signs from the universe about other opportunities he has, or is he ignoring them, or is he just having a normal rough day because of upheaval in his family?

What would he do if he’d been born like me, to ordinary parents in an average family just outside the suburbs, instead of into a world-famous family with ridiculously high standards set by the world around them?

He reaches the limo and pulls my door open before Nikolay makes his way around the car to do it, and then he’s offering me a hand. “Begonia.”

“Hayes.”

Our palms connect, and my stomach drops.

In the good way, for the record.

As soon as I’m all the way out of the limo, he pulls me close, our bodies lining up while he presses his face into my hair. “Everyone will be watching us closely, so be on your best behavior,” he murmurs.

“I didn’t think you were dating me for my best behavior,” I whisper back.

“I meant your best pretending to be madly in love behavior. And for god’s sake, please weed through the disaster in my lobby. Diamonds and pearls, Begonia. Diamonds and pearls.”

“I don’t want diamonds and pearls, but I’d take a day pass to Razzle Dazzle Village for Hyacinth and her kids.”

He pulls back and stares at me like I’ve grown a penis out of my forehead. “We need to work on your standards and expectations.”

I wince. I’m so bad at asking for things. “Is it too much? I’m taking advantage, aren’t I?”

“Yes, Begonia. Giving away three single-day passes to Razzle Dazzle Village would completely bankrupt the entire operation.”

Marshmallow growls and shoves between us.

“Agreed, Marshmallow.” I rub his head. “Sarcasm still isn’t all that attractive on Hayes. It’s a good thing he has other redeeming qualities. And Hyacinth has two kids and a husband who should probably go with her if we want Hyacinth to have a good time. So four passes, please.”

“Find me an executive assistant, and she’ll book the whole damn family a week-long private adventure with all the frills and fripperies.”

“Oh, that’s too mu—um, I mean, thank you.” I pause. “Also, can you say fripperies again?”

“No.”

“Please? It was adorable. In a manly, rugged way, I mean.”

He visibly stifles an eye roll, takes my hand again and tugs me up the stairs, bypasses the metal detectors in the entryway that looks every bit as much like a government office would, almost like this is used on movie sets when they need city halls, growls at the lone guard in the building who looks at Marshmallow wrong, and then we’re all crammed into an elevator together.

It’s a lovely elevator, but it’s a little small for two large men, me, my dog, and the sudden knowledge that my fake billionaire boyfriend actually expects me to pick out a proper executive assistant for him.

“Did you take your allergy medicine this morning?” I ask.

He answers with a duh look.

I wave a hand in his general direction. “Is it the job, or is it me?” I ask.

Nikolay coughs and turns around, which doesn’t do much good, considering the elevator walls are lined with mirrors.

Mirrors etched with the Razzle Dazzle logo, but still mirrors.

Hayes is spared from answering when the elevator stops and the doors open, and—

“Whoa,” I whisper.

“I’ll be in my office. Tell me when you’re done.”

He kisses my forehead, looks at the throng of women squeezed into the waiting area, all of them rising to their feet or going up on tiptoe and peering at him, and he sighs so heavily I feel it in my toes.

It’s like he’s on display at the meat market.

“Hayes,” I whisper.

His dark eyes meet mine, and I don’t know if that’s sadness or desperation or regret or hope, but I know whatever’s going on in his brain and in his heart, it’s not pretty. “Please don’t tell me you can’t do this.”

“I need a kiss for good luck. And to stake my claim.”

“That’s not proper, Begonia. I’m still a Rutherford.”

“It’s necessary for my process.”

He studies me for one more beat, and just when I think he’s going to kiss me—please, please kiss me—instead, he turns to the room at large. “This is Begonia. She’s my girlfriend. We’re madly in love, and she’ll be doing the pre-interview screenings. Anyone who disrespects her will immediately be dismissed from consideration for the job. Am I clear?”

Murmurs and head-bobs affirm he’s made his point.

“That was less helpful,” I whisper to him.

“I have faith in you, my bluebell.”

He drops my hand and strides through the sea of women, leaving Nikolay, Marshmallow, and me to watch.

And I realize I’ve already decided at least four of the women won’t work out at all, because I don’t like how they’re looking at his ass.