The Billionaire's Proposal

“It’s not fair because that’s my job, Nick,” I fired back. It was much colder outside than it was in the club, and I folded my arms protectively across my chest, trying not to tremble. “You are the one in the public eye—not me. Of course you would be the one asked to do these sorts of things. None of that has anything to do with me. I handle the spin, nothing else—”

“Oh—come on.” The smile faded as he looked at me coolly. “You handle the spin and nothing else? You’re really not any more invested than that?”

Um...what?!

For a second, both of us froze, thinking back to our almost kiss. A rush of color flooded his cheeks, and he was quick to clarify.

“We’re friends, Abby. You’re one of my closest friends in the world. That’s why I’m asking you. Do it as my friend, as well as my publicist.” He ran a hand back through his hair and added as a convincing afterthought, “I can’t handle another Ella. I won’t do it.”

“It doesn’t have to be another Ella,” I said quickly. “We can find you someone that you’ll actually enjoy spending time with. Someone better suited. But it sure as hell can’t be me.”

“And why not?” he asked again, refusing to back down.

I threw up my hands, unable to believe we were actually havin

g this conversation on the streets of Barcelona. Just a stone’s throw away from the airport.

“For so many reasons! Nick, the board is looking for a certain kind of girl, you of all people know that. One with a certain kind of pedigree, or job, or appearance, or—”

Nick raised a hand to silence me.

“First of all, pedigree obviously doesn’t mean shit, judging by Ella Campbell.”

He let that hang for a moment, before he started ticking things off—one by one.

“You have a college degree, test scores as high as mine, and enough wit and charm to dazzle whatever room you walk into. You came from nothing and still rose to the top of your field. You’ve put up with my shit for two years—which is enough to qualify you right there. But you’re also dedicated, hard-working, empathetic, and kind.”

He paused for a split second, before passionately concluding.

“And Abby, if you don’t think that you’re ten times more beautiful than any of the women on the lists you gave me...then you’re fucking crazy.”

By now, the people around us were starting to stare. I didn’t blame them. Nick had a way of speaking as though he was on a stage, rather than a sidewalk. But as for myself, I was frozen in place. A little bit shell-shocked. A little bit stunned.

“You can control every moment,” he murmured, reaching down tentatively to take my hands, “orchestrate every headline, spin things whatever way you want. I’ll do anything you say—I promise. Whatever you think is best. Events, dinners, fundraisers...anything you like.”

His thumbs rubbed gently across my knuckles, soothing and convincing at the same time.

“It’s just for three months,” he bowed his head—bringing us inadvertently closer together, “three months, and then everything can go back to the way it was. The merger will be finished, the board will be thrilled, the company—all those jobs—will be safe.”

He was using my own logic now. Turning my own argument against me.

But the question still remained...

“Why me?”

He came up suddenly short, staring down with a million unspoken things dancing behind his sparkling eyes. No doubt, a dozen or so arguments and rationales came to his mind. But in the end, he didn’t go with any of them. In the end, he decided to simply tell the truth.

“Because I trust you,” he said softly.

It was perhaps the only thing he could have said to change my mind. The only thing that would make me pause. That would make me forget the airport lights twinkling just beyond.

“I don’t want to do this with someone I don’t care about,” he continued, sounding almost shy. “With someone I don’t know, someone who doesn’t know me.” His eyes flickered up to meet mine, before he blushed and lowered them again. “I want it to be you.”

Blushing and shy? I didn’t know what to make of it. Neither one was even remotely Nick, but somehow, he had never seemed more sincere to me. More vulnerable.

“Please, Abby.” His voice was almost a whisper. “For me?”

Our eyes locked, and my breath caught in my chest.