Marrying My Billionaire Hookup

“Is there a man who can handle that girl?” Court asks with a small sigh. “She’s impossible. I mean, in a good way. But still impossible.”

I nod. She was born to money and power. Her father adores her and lets her do whatever she wants. And it doesn’t end there. He dropped a project with an American company once because she asked him to. Her influence over her father is what makes her formidable. And…impossible.

“So, what are you doing out here?” Court asks finally. “Have a fight with Dad?”

I should’ve known he wasn’t going to be able to suppress his curiosity for long. And being subtle isn’t his forte. “We had a…disagreement.”

Court rolls his eyes, but I’d rather avoid the term “fight.” It’s too messy and emotionally ugly. Dad and I were both very controlled. As a matter of fact, we didn’t even raise our voices.

“How come?” Tony asks, the reluctance in his tone making it clear that he doesn’t want to get involved in what’s happening in Tempérane. The town represents nothing but a painful past to him.

Well, let’s see. There are so many points Dad and I disagree about. I pick the most neutral, the one least likely to bore everybody. “He wants to pass Nora over for promotion. Again. And that’s unacceptable, because she’s worth a lot more than Paul Fontenot, and she’s been with the company longer as well.”

“He’s going to promote that tool?” Court demands, his face twisting into outrage.

“What’s wrong with him?” Pascal asks.

“He’s never seen a woman he didn’t want to make sexist comments about,” Court says, his nose wrinkling in distaste.

Pascal’s eyes flash. “Sexism is ugly.”

“He’s clinging to the way things were, rather than what the future could be,” I say.

“You should stage a coup.” Court snaps his fingers. “Take control of the company.”

“Easier said than done.” I let out a frustrated sigh. I need something stiff, but it would be rude to ask for anything, considering Ivy can’t drink. “He’s in with the good ol’ boy gas-and-pipeline network in the South, especially Louisiana and Texas, and most of the board doesn’t merely think he’s the best thing since sliced bread—he is the sliced bread.”

“I’m sorry,” Ivy says softly. “But feel free to stay here as long as you want. Forget about the problems in Tempérane.”

I smile at her. “Thanks. But I’ll eventually have to go back to handle the situation.” As soon as I sort out the Jo problem. It shouldn’t take that long.

When dinner’s over, Pascal and Ivy decide to linger over cups of decaf tea to consult each other on baby stuff. I head to Tony’s study, where he keeps some excellent liquor, and pour myself two fingers of scotch.

Before I can toss it back, the door opens and my brothers walk in. They’re wearing frowns so identical that it’s almost comical. But then they look alike, while I do not. I have Dad’s wide, solid frame, along with his rougher, less polished features.

“Shouldn’t you be with your women?” I ask, keeping my tone casual. I sit down on a plush leather armchair and prop one ankle on my knee.

“Cut the bullshit,” Court says, shutting the door.

“You didn’t fly out here just because Nora didn’t get promoted,” Tony says.

They join me, taking the other armchairs.

I sigh. My brothers know me too well. I take a healthy swallow of the scotch. “It’s a personal matter.”

“Are you dating?” Court stares at me like I’ve announced I enjoy fornicating with unicorns.

And that incredulous expression offends me in a way I can’t quite put my finger on, even though I know he isn’t doing it on purpose. “What if I am?”

“Who?” I can almost see the names of women I’ve been involved with—or could be involved with—cross Tony’s face.

Ignoring both of them, I knock back the rest of the drink.

Tony blinks. “Wait… Yuna?”

The scotch gets caught and goes up my nose. I cough and sputter, trying to clear the burn in my sinuses.

“Okay, maybe not her. So who?” Court asks.