Marrying My Billionaire Boss

We end the call, but somehow I actually feel worse. It really isn’t her problem. It’s mine because I rigged things to avoid being won by Georgette. Otherwise I would’ve just let somebody win me, then suffered through the date for a good cause.

I eye Evie’s shadow on the other side of the frosted glass wall. She heard Barron, and she’s probably amenable. If not because she’s afraid of Barron, then because she cares about Elizabeth’s cause.

There’s really only one course left for us to take: go through with the date. That’s the fastest and surest way to shut people up.

I hit the button on my desk. “Ms. Parker, a moment, please.”

She walks in, carrying her tablet. “Ken is set to speak with you today at three. That’s the earliest he can manage.”

“Okay. But we need to talk about us.”

“Um…us?”

“The date. We kind of have to do it.”

She clears her throat. “I see. Okay.” She worries her lip, then firms her mouth like she’s come to a decision. “Do you want me to make a reservation at a restau

rant? I’m pretty sure I can manage one at someplace exclusive either today or tomorrow. The kind of place a half-million-dollar bachelor would take his winner.”

Oh, Evie, Evie. She obviously doesn’t realize we actually have to stick to the date I proposed, not this eating-out thing she prefers. “No. You need to go home and pack for an overnight trip.”

“Excuse me?” She looks at me like I just asked her to strip naked and do a backflip.

“We’re flying to Vegas.”

“Vegas? There are plenty of acceptable restaurants in L.A.”

“I agree, but we can’t do that to quiet the gossip. We have to go to Vegas.”

She takes a quarter of a step backward, her cornflower-blue eyes full of wariness. “And then…what? Gamble? That’s not really romantic, if you ask me.”

I stare at her. Why is she asking these ridiculous questions? She’s normally sharper than this. “Obviously not. Everyone’s expecting us to stay at the biggest suite imaginable. To follow the plan.”

“Okay…”

A sudden possibility crosses my mind. No. Freaking. Way. Everyone knows what the date is supposed to be. Vanessa knew, and she wasn’t even going to the damned auction. But the way Evie’s reacting… “Ms. Parker, did you see what I proposed for the winner’s date?”

“I didn’t even know there was a ‘proposed date.’ I thought the bachelor and his winner would decide together.”

“That’s not how the auction worked. The bachelors came with a preplanned date for whoever won them. It was printed on the programs.”

She thinks for a moment, then shrugs. “Sorry, but I didn’t bother to check. I was running late.”

I lean back in my seat. I hate to have to spring it on her like this, but I also can’t wait to see how she’ll react when she finds out. Is she going to be scandalized? Maybe even shocked enough to call me Nate again? I didn’t miss the way she used my name after the auction, when she thought I was about to keel over from alcohol poisoning.

I force my expression into utter somberness. “Ms. Parker, the plan is to fly to Las Vegas on my private jet. And then we’re going to have a drunken orgy.”

She sputters, then starts coughing hard into her hand. I rise to pat her back, but she pushes the tablet out like a shield to fend me off.

Wheezing, she finally stands straight. Her face is red, and there are little beads of tears around her eyes. “We’re going to what?”

So I’ve finally shaken her composure. “We’re going to Vegas, on my jet.”

“Yeah, yeah, the other part. A drunken orgy?” She shakes her head. “That’s a terrible joke. It’s not funny.”

“It’s not a joke.” I ready myself to catch her in case she faints…or jump back fast if she decides to punish me by throwing up on my shoes.

She gives me a look sharp enough to cut, then swipes her tablet and taps away. Finally she finds whatever she’s looking for and inhales sharply. “Oh my God. I can’t believe you actually made that your plan! Why were people even bidding on you?”