She swooned. “I think I’m in love.”
Our cat was meowing from beneath an ottoman, and I was seized with a sudden thought.
“Why did we name him Deevus?” I asked, remembering Marcus’ question.
Amanda’s face scrunched up in a frown. “I can’t remember. I think we kept saying he was being so devious, when he was hiding behind the refrigerator.” She chewed a mouthful of popcorn contemplatively. “He tried to bite you and scratch me. And then you thought he looked like the devil…”
I yawned. “That sounds about right.” Slippers flailing, I kicked off the comforter and extracted myself from our little nest. “Well, I have to get to sleep. The billionaire and I are going to a golf tournament tomorrow, and I’m meeting him for breakfast beforehand.”
She raised her eyebrows and smothered a smile. “The billionaire now, is it? He doesn’t even get a name?”
“Does he need one? He’s got all those billions,” I said in a joking tone.
“That’s true. Well, enjoy your golf day—that’s sure to be a nail-biter.”
I laughed. “A ballbuster, I think they call it.”
“Wear some plaid.”
The sun was just started to tint the sky pink as I skipped off to bed, thrilled with the knowledge that my secret was no longer a secret. I’d gotten the one person I needed on board.
Chapter 15
“I don’t care what time it is in Switzerland, Billings, just get him on the line!”
My summons to the Taylor compound had come much earlier than I would have liked. Having gotten only three hours of sleep I was running on fumes, sucking down a cappuccino like a life raft as that demented peacock lurked somewhere in the beyond.
“I’m sorry, Rebecca.” Marcus held his phone away from his ear and apologized again. “I just have to get a handle on this whole article thing before it spins out of—yes, Billings? I told you I don’t need a translator, just get him on the damn phone!” His tone shifted night and day as he turned back to me. “Would you like a croissant?”
“Yes, thank you.” I kept my eyes down on the table as I snaked one off a plate and started picking off little bites.
A copy of Time Magazine lay on the table across between us, a picture of Marcus’ face splashed across the front with the headline, “PARTY LIKE A BILLIONAIRE: How a Business Tycoon Morphed Into a Party Animal.” I looked down at an image of Marcus standing on a yacht surrounded by all kinds of bathing-suit beauties. But Marcus seemed far more concerned with the article himself. I guess he didn’t like the negative spotlight.
“Fine,” Marcus snapped, “if it’s really so important, I guess he’ll just have to call me back. He’s only my fucking publicist after all.” He clicked off the phone and dropped it on the table in disgust.
I clicked my tongue disapprovingly. “The Marcus Taylor taking call-backs? Whatever could be more important,” I held the magazine up over my face, “than you?”
Marcus’ expression was dark. “His wife is having a baby.”
I tossed down the magazine in disbelief. “And you were seriously trying to get him on the phone?”
“It’s their second baby. He’s already been there.”
“Okay.” I avoided eye contact and sipped my coffee, wondering why he’d called me over for a rage-breakfast when we could have just met at the country club.
“I just can’t believe it,” he ranted on, his gaze fastening once more on the page. “Troublemaker playboy with anger issues?” In a swift move, he kicked a silver mimosa tray halfway across the terrace. “I’ve completely changed my ways!”
I raised my eyebrows and buried my face in my croissant. “Yeah, they definitely got that wrong.”
He waved a dismissive hand. “Forget it. You wouldn’t understand.”
“Clearly, you have some issues to work out. I’m going to meet you at the club, sweetie. If you could just call that butler of yours again to make sure the peacock is wrangled, I can get to my car.”
“Rebecca.” His hand flashed out to mine. “I’m sorry. Really.”
My eyes locked on our intertwined fingers as he sighed.
“There’s so much pressure right now for me to close this deal, but Takahari’s on the fence and stalling. He’s not taking me seriously. I can’t imagine this article will help my image.”