New York Billionaires Series

I sit down on his bed and pull on my socks, still looking at him.

He chuckles. “Only if she’s okay with having a snowball fight. Okay, I think that’s fair.”

I pretend to lob a ball at Tristan’s head, and he ducks to the side, grinning wide. “Okay, kid. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

He clicks off the phone and leans back against the wall. “He thought it was a great idea.”

“That’s terrific,” I say. “But elephant lady?”

“Is it better than strait-laced?”

“No. You really need to work on your nicknames.”Ccontent © exclusive by Nô/vel(D)ra/ma.Org.

Tristan catches me around the waist as I pass, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. “Sweetheart,” he says. “I like that one.”

Something flutters in my stomach. “So do I, handsome.”

Grinning, he pulls me along down the corridor. “Let’s go. We have snowballs to throw.”

I close the door behind me. My studio is toasty compared to the cold New York air, courtesy of Tristan’s electrician and the newly installed heater. I kick off my boots and hang up my coat before I call him.

“You’re back home?” he asks.

“Yes,” I tell him. “And you’re overprotective.”

He sighs on the other line. “Walking home at night is still a risk.”

“A small one. I was just at the bar next to work. It takes me fifteen minutes to walk.”

“With your co-workers?”

“Yes.” I sit down on my bed and pull up my legs. “You know, after having worked with them for a few months, I really don’t think the mole is in my department.”

There’s a smile in his voice. “I’m not surprised you’d think that.”

“It’s not because I’m biased.”

“Of course it’s not.”

“I’ve really been paying attention, you know. To their schedules and what calls they take. How they talk about projects. More so, how they talk about you or Exciteur when we’re alone together. But all of them seem loyal to the bone.”

“That’s good to know,” he says.

I fluff up a pillow behind me. “I can be a great corporate spy. I don’t know why you doubt me.”

He laughs then, warm and rich, and the sound washes away the days since we’d last seen each other. Since our snowball fight on Saturday, we’d only managed one late-night meeting since, here in my apartment. It’s been nearly four days since then.

“I don’t doubt you, Freddie. I know better than that. But I think you bring out the best in people, including someone who might be leaking information.”

“Hmm.” I take a sip of my tea, contemplating his words. “Perhaps I’m the one who has to make the first move. If I start talking crap about the company and your takeover, they’ll feel more comfortable to let their traitor flag fly.”

He laughs again. “You’re that good of an actress?”

“I’m good at everything. Haven’t you heard?”

“I have,” he says. “The pitch you helped Eleanor deliver today has received raving reviews.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he echoes. “I heard the head of sales talk about it, not to mention the email we received from the clients afterwards.”

I breathe out a sigh of relief. “Oh, that’s amazing. We really worked so hard on this one, and the strategy we came up with was excellent.”

“You’ll have to give the pitch to me one day.”

“Yes, well, I spent several evenings working on it this week. It better be good after all that time,” I say. On the other end, I hear the sound of his feet, and then the closing of a door. “You’re in your bedroom?”

“My home office,” he says. “You remind me of me when I was your age.”

“When you were my age? You’re not that much older than me, mister.”

“I suppose not,” he admits. “But the ambition, I mean. Working evenings and being eager to rise in the ranks.”

My gaze snags on the pictures on my dresser, the shrine to success. My parents. My grandfather. “I know you work evenings too, Tristan. And what you’ve accomplished is really inspiring. Exciteur is doing better now than it ever did before you took over the leadership.”

He brushes past the compliment. “I used to have your hunger.”

“Don’t you still?”

There’s a smile in his voice. “I’m not twenty-six anymore. There are responsibilities I can’t forsake for a few extra hours at the office.”

He’s talking about his son. Joshua, whose smile comes wide and easy and has the confidence of a kid raised with love. I make my voice teasing. “Then why do you have a home office? Something tells me you spend evenings there every now and then.”

“And what would make you think that?”

“Oh, I don’t know, just knowing you? Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re not,” he admits. “I’m often answering the emails at night. Why do I get so many?”

I laugh, turning over onto my back. Stare up at the ceiling and feel perfectly happy. “Have you received any from a disobedient trainee lately?”

“As a matter of fact, I haven’t. I keep expecting it, but no dice.”

“Expecting it?”

“It would spice things up. Rise right to the top of my priority list.”

I smile. “I can’t believe you thought I was a man.”