Claim Me(41)

“I would have enjoyed myself very much, I assure you.”

“And been late for the meeting.”

“I’m rather confident they can’t start without me. That is not, however, an excuse to be late.”

As if on cue, a loud rush fills my ears and the house seems to vibrate. “What is—”

“My ride,” Damien says as a helicopter appears below the roofline and continues its descent below the balcony.

I hurry outside and watch as the helicopter lands on a flat, grassy area of the yard.

I turn and look at Damien. “What?” I say. “You couldn’t afford a proper helipad?”

“On the contrary, you’re looking at a state-of-the-art, eco-friendly, reinforced turf landing platform.”

I blink at him. “Seriously?”

“It’s quite revolutionary, I assure you. The ground is prepped with a high-tensile-strength mesh system that creates an anchored root system providing a surface area with remarkable load-bearing capacity. And because the Malibu hills are prone to mudslides, I’ve taken additional precautions and strengthened the area with a buried grid system into which that root area blends. The result is pretty damned impressive.”

“If you do say so yourself.”

He smirks. “I’m afraid this isn’t one of my projects. Not yet, anyway. I’ve begun talks with the company that holds the patent on the mesh technology.”

“To acquire the company?”

“Perhaps. Or maybe I’ll simply be a silent partner.” He fixes me with a steady look. “Not all of my business ventures involve my fingers in the pie.”

I ignore the unstated message. I want the million that I earned posing for the portrait in order to seed my business—a business I intend to kick into gear once I feel like I’m ready. Damien wants to help me—and he thinks I’m ready now. It’s not a discussion that I’m diving back into now, but he presses on.

“You’re ready, Nikki. You can do this.”

“Surprisingly, I think I’m a better judge of my ability than you are,” I say, more sharply than I intend.

“Willingness, yes. Ability, no. That’s a much more objective criterion, and I see more clearly than you do. You’re too close to the subject in question. Let’s examine the evidence, shall we?”

I cross my arms over my chest and scowl at him, but he presses on.

“You already have two reasonably profitable smartphone apps on the market, fully designed, marketed, and supported by you and you alone. You accomplished that entrepreneurial feat when you were still in college, so that in and of itself indicates the kind of self-sufficiency a successful business owner needs. Your degrees in electrical engineering and computer science are only icing on the cake, but your invitation into PhD programs at both MIT and CalTech demonstrate that I’m not the only one who sees your worth.”

“But I turned down the programs.”

“So that you could work in the real world and gain experience.”

I can see that I’m not going to win this argument, so I do the only thing I can do—I ignore it and kiss him gently on the cheek. “Your car pool’s here, Mr. Stark. You don’t want to be late for homeroom.” I turn to head inside, but he grabs my hand and pulls me back. His kiss is long and deep and makes my knees go weak, but Damien considerately holds me up so that I don’t collapse in a puddle on the flagstone tiles.

“What was that for?” I breathe when he releases me.

“A reminder that I believe in you,” he says.