Resisting the Billionaire

by Allie Winters

  “Mi casa es su casa then,” he says, spreading his arms wide. “Anything you guys need is yours.”

  He wanders off, greeting another couple, and I whisper, “He didn’t seem so bad.”

  “Nah, he’s fine for the most part. But be careful what you say around him. The guy’s got loose lips.”

  “He seemed to like you.”

  “I mentioned him to someone who was looking for a realtor years ago. That sale really got his business off the ground.”

  I see the same pattern throughout the night as different people stop Gabriel to talk, thanking him for one thing or another, asking him about the most random things. Does he know anyone who’s interested in buying a restaurant? Actually, he does. Has he heard anything about that reality show following the sons of tech titan Franklin Nash? Yeah, it’s in pre-production right now.

  Last year he even paired up a socialite who wanted to diversify her image with the daughter of a clothing industry icon, who in turn created a collaboration I’ve seen on billboards recently. I would have never guessed he was the initial matchmaker behind that.

  He’s modest in their praise of him, charming, sociable, and for the first time, I truly see how well connected he is. Fellow children of other industry giants, models, singers, those from seriously old money families. They’re all here and most everyone knows him.

  And the absolute best part? He talks me up. With every new group we make our way to, the first thing he does is introduce me, including my job title, and without fail, someone always has a question about it. I honestly didn’t come here intending to network, but I end up passing my business cards out to eight different people in an hour alone. He was serious when he said he could throw business my way.

  I pull him aside over to the balcony railing after we finish talking to two people he knows who are recently engaged and in the early stages of planning their wedding. “I really appreciate what you’re doing, but you don’t have to, you know.”

  “I know,” he says, resting his elbows on the edge of the railing as he looks out toward the harbor. “But the more we talk about you, the less I have to talk about me.”

  “I don’t want to take over your night. In case you actually wanted to speak with anyone.”

  “Here?” He shakes his head slowly. “I know them, but I don’t know them. I’m not… close with any of them.”

  “Why not?”

  He shrugs, rolling those big shoulders back. “It’s all superficial. I like helping them out, as long as they don’t ask for money. Connections are easy. But that’s what they want me for. Not for me.”

  Wow, that sounds incredibly lonely. But it also makes a lot of sense when I stop to consider it. “So what do you want?”

  He looks over at me, heat flaring in his eyes as he gives me a once over.

  “Besides that,” I mumble, my cheeks heating.

  He smirks for a moment before sobering. “I don’t know,” he finally says. “I was never meant to take over Dad’s company. He groomed Archer for that. I’m still not sure what I’m supposed to do.”

  I want so badly to reach out and squeeze his hand, stroke his arm, give him a hug, but I can’t. Not here in public.

  “I’m envious of you.”

  “Of me?” I ask, my brows jumping up.

  He nods. “You’ve got it all figured out. You know exactly what you want.”

  I blink rapidly, not convinced I’m hearing him right. “Gabriel, I’m constantly flying by the seat of my pants. I had all these grand plans that backfired majorly on me.”

  “But you stuck it out.” He turns to me, pride shining in his eyes. “You don’t let anything keep you down. That first time we met at your office, you were so enthusiastic, so knowledgeable. It was really obvious you love what you do.”

  I tamp down the urge to smile goofily, not wanting him to see how much his words affect me. “I do, but it’s not like it’s all fun and games.”

  “Like what?”

  “Getting people to pay me is always awkward. And holding up a bride’s dress when they use the restroom.”

  “You actually have to do that?” he laughs. “Shouldn’t a bridesmaid or someone be there to help?”

  “They’re usually on their way to shitfaced by that point in the night. Oh, and plunging overflowing toilets at the reception. That’s always fun.” I eye him carefully. “Have you ever plunged a toilet?”

  He gives me a sardonic look. “What do you think?”

  I laugh. “There’s normally some kind of family drama I have to mediate too. Your wedding being no exception.”

  “What?” he rears back, faux affronted. “Just because the bride and groom don’t speak to each other? You call that drama?”

  I turn my face to hide a grin, knowing I shouldn’t be laughing at that.

  “What else is bad?”

  “Hmm.” I look out at the water, wishing I had this kind of view from my apartment. “I’ve never been great at marketing. You seem to be better at it than me,” I laugh, thinking of him networking at his party, the way he even thought to put that decal on my office window with my business information. “But mostly the uncertainty of how much my business will make month to month. There’s something to be said for working for someone else. You can at least rely on a steady paycheck. I thought for a while there…” I trail off, wondering if I shouldn’t be talking about financial stuff like this with him.

  “What?”

  I shrug, turning to face him again. “I might have to cut my losses and leave. Move back to Ohio to regroup.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t. Then I’d never have met you.”

  I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be able to take it if he keeps saying such sweet things.

  His hand inches closer to mine on the railing, not touching, but close enough to feel the heat from him. I let myself linger for a moment then step away, tucking my hands in the folds of my dress. “There are lots of positives too. Like when my clients are so in love,” I babble, not sure where I’m going with this. “I mean, obviously they’re all in love. They’re getting married.”

  He gives me a pointed look.

  “Okay, maybe not all. You’re the exception to the rule.” In so many things. The only person I’ve ever worked with that I felt this kind of attraction to.

  And who returns it so wholeheartedly.

  My fingers grip the sides of my dress tightly. “Is there anyone else you need to make your hellos to?”

  “Yeah,” he murmurs, tucking his own hands in his pockets.

  We stay for another hour and I soak in the experience as best I can, knowing this is likely the only chance I’ll have to immerse myself in the goings on of the rich and famous. Not that I’ve ever been one to gush over celebrities, but I do peruse Us Weekly on occasion.

  More than that, though, I enjoy watching Gabriel in his element, surrounded by his contemporaries. I take the reins when others get too close asking about Serena, content to sit back otherwise and observe as he captivates those around him.

  Or maybe it’s just me he’s doing that to.

  As we ride to my apartment at the end of the night in his town car, I spend the entire time wondering if he’ll walk me up to the seventh floor, the way he’s done before. I shouldn’t encourage it. It’ll only lead to some awkward goodbye where we have to pretend to be friends.

  But both of us know that’s not truly the case.

  A shudder runs through me as I remember him whispering in my ear, voice dark with temptation. If circumstances were different, I wouldn’t stay only friends with you.

  “Cold?” he asks, adjusting the vent.

  “Thanks,” I murmur, rubbing the goosebumps on my arms away as we pull up to my building.

  He steps out of the car as we pull up, holding his hand out for me to take. I grab on thankfully, his grip steady and sure, and reluctantly let go as I step onto the curb.

  He follows me up, each of us silent. Is he expecting a goodnight kiss? No, he wouldn’
t do that. We agreed - friends only.

  I fiddle with the strap of my purse as we reach my door on the top floor, looking down at my shoes. “The, um, party at Worthington Place is tomorrow. The one for my clients you helped secure. Is there anything special I need to do to get in?”

  “It starts at noon, right? How about I meet you there at ten? Will two hours be enough to set up?”

  I glance up, his gaze steadfast. “You’re coming?”

  “I can’t let you do it all by yourself.”

  I resist the urge to melt into his arms. That would definitely send the wrong message after my speech last time. “Thank you.”

  I stick out my hand instead for a handshake, determined to keep things professional, but he simply looks down at it, glancing back up at me in amusement. “We’re friends, not interviewing for a job.”

  I smile weakly, dropping my hand.

  “We can hug, right? Friends hug.”

  I nod reflexively, an overwhelming sense of rightness enveloping me as he steps in close and wraps his arms around me. I return the embrace, breathing him in, my body relaxing against his. My fingers curl into the hard muscles of his upper back, his encircling my waist, and I wish we could stay like this forever.

  After a few moments, his hands move the slightest bit, drawing small circles against the fabric of my dress, not quite a caress, but the beginnings of one. I still, my lower belly stirring, eager to see if he’ll shift his hands further down to shape themselves over my ass, or maybe up and around to cup my breasts. Anywhere really. I’ll take him anywhere.

  When I realize my nails are digging into his back, I step away, my breaths coming faster. What am I doing? I just told him yesterday we shouldn’t kiss and here I am mentally imagining him feeling me up.

  I’m not the only one with naughty things on my mind, though. There’s unmistakable lust in his eyes, but something more too, something deeper.

  Something that shouldn’t be there. That can’t be there.

  I dig in my purse for my key, my hands trembling slightly as I fit it into the lock. “Goodnight, Gabriel.”

  “Goodnight.”

  I shut the door behind me and lean against it, wondering how I’m going to get through the next couple weeks. I pull out my phone to check how many days it actually is since I’m a masochist and see that I have a missed message from Serena.

  Serena: Won’t be able to make the fitting for tomorrow. Let’s reschedule later.

  Is she freaking kidding me? She’s not taking any of this seriously. We’re supposed to meet bright and early at eight a.m. at Bewitching Bridal to ensure the alterations we rushed are correct. I had to get Louise to agree to let us in before the store opens just because Serena said it was the only time she was available.

  Why am I doing her favors, staying away from Gabriel when she cares so little about all this? Why can’t she see what a good catch he is, how lucky she is to get to marry him?

  I throw my phone down on the couch, biting the inside of my cheek so I won’t scream aloud. The unfairness of this all is unbelievable. I finally meet this amazing guy - one who actually seems to like me too - and he’s taken by someone who doesn’t appreciate him the least bit.

  You know what I’m going to do? I’m calling her and giving her a piece of my mind.

  I swipe my phone back up and navigate to Serena’s contact info, punching the green phone icon, then pace the length of my couch, waiting to hear what she has to say for herself.

  After three rings she picks up with a tentative, “Hello?”

  “Why are you canceling?” I demand, too worked up to really think it through. Maybe I should have planned this out a little better.

  “An emergency board meeting was called for my foundation.”

  Ugh, why does she have to have such a reasonable answer? Wait- Her foundation? “You have your own charity?” I thought she said she only sat on the board.

  “Yes, the Montague Animal Foundation. We’re a no kill shelter here in Manhattan.”

  Double ugh. She saves animals? How can I be mad at her now?

  “I appreciate you being so understanding about all this,” she continues quietly. “I’ve never found myself in a situation like this, and I don’t really know what to do.”

  The hesitancy in her voice kills me, softening my heart unwillingly.

  “I wish it would all go away,” she whispers.

  Her words from the bridal shop come back to me. I thought I was marrying his brother. She only agreed to this for the chance to be with Archer and clearly doesn’t want to be with Gabriel… A niggling idea forms in my head.

  “So what are you two going to do after you’re married? Will you live together?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What if you’re in this fake marriage and you meet someone else? What will you do then?”

  “I- I haven’t thought about it.” I can practically hear her withdrawing into herself the way she does, but I need to know.

  “And what if he meets someone? Would you deny him the chance to fall in love?”

  I hold my breath, awaiting her answer, but I’m only met with another exasperated, “I don’t know.”

  That look in his eyes tonight as I pulled away from his hug… what was that exactly? I won’t let myself believe Gabriel is falling in love with me… but I can’t say the reverse isn’t happening. As much as I don’t want it to, it’s kind of too late.

  “I haven’t thought that far ahead, okay?” she continues. “I got roped into this by my dad. We’ll figure out all that stuff after the wedding, but until then, it’s like we’re not really together, you know? I’ll deal with it afterward.”

  She makes excuses to end the call and I carefully set the phone on the coffee table, ruminating over her words. We’re not really together. She said it herself. Is that enough to ease my conscience, though?

  If both Gabriel and Serena don’t consider themselves in a relationship, who would it harm- Oh my God, who am I trying to delude here? Me. It would harm me. If Mr. Bishop caught wind of me fooling around with his engaged son, I could kiss this job goodbye. I’m already on thin ice after Tina discovered us making out at The Haven. I have no idea how I’m going to explain that away once she finds out I really am the wedding planner. And thankfully no one saw us at Cesar’s Dance Studio.

  But if you were to do something in private… a little voice whispers. Oh, that’s a dangerous voice.

  No, I- I can’t touch him. Or let him touch me. I know myself, and I’m already skirting a fine line. If nothing else, I have some decency.

  Just flirting then. That doesn’t hurt anyone.

  I glance over at my shoulder, half expecting a miniature cartoon devil to be sitting there whispering these rationalizations in my ear.

  You both want each other. Both he and Serena say they’re not in a relationship. Keep your hands to yourself, but let off some steam. A little flirting could take the edge off so you’re not tempted to do something you’ll actually regret.

  Does it mean I’ve officially drunk the crazy juice when I agree with the voice in my head?

  Kissing is a no. Touching isn’t a good idea either. That leads to kissing. But flirting? Just words?

  How bad could it be?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Gabriel

  When Mackenzie said she was a one-woman business… she really meant it.

  “Where does this go?” I hold up a red and yellow banner with a cartoonish circus tent on the front that reads Happy Birthday Jaden. They do know the kid can’t read, right?

  She points over to the snow cone machine, knocking a party popper off the table in front of her. “Damn it,” she mutters, bending down, ass in the air, to retrieve it.

  I watch her as she wiggles, her red dress acting like a beacon to my hyperactive imagination. Mackenzie underneath me on all fours, bent forward, begging me to take her. Sinking into her warmth, surrounded by her, her scent filling my nose…

  The sharp yap of a d
og brings me out of my daydreaming, a blonde in her mid-thirties right outside the gate of Worthington Place waving in my direction with a tiny fluff ball tucked under her arm.

  “Hi, there!” she waves. “Can you let me in?”

  There’s a loud thud as Mackenzie bangs her head from underneath the table, letting loose a soft four letter word I’d love to hear from her under different circumstances, and quickly backs out and hands what she had dropped to me, rushing to greet the woman. This must be the entitled mom she’s been grumbling under her breath about all morning.

  Now I’ve seen my share of elaborate parties, but that’s with an unlimited budget. And from what Mackenzie said they’re paying, she really should have asked for more considering they expected her to set everything up herself.

  They took the carnival theme to the extreme, complete with a face painter and balloon artist for a freaking one year old child. What are they going to do when the kid’s older? Actually rent out a circus?

  I helped put together a ring toss, cornhole game, and balloon dartboard for the kids, and a dessert buffet table that includes a snow cone machine and cotton candy spinner in addition to the two-tier cake and matching cake pops decorated in the circus theme. Get ready for cavities, children.

  The juggler dressed like a clown is already setting up his stuff across the way but I pay little attention to him as I watch Mackenzie and her client, the woman’s face attempting to frown but unable to manage it with the amount of Botox she’s had inserted.

  “Everything okay?” I ask, wiping off my hands on my jeans as I join them.

  “Actually, no,” the woman spits out. “The face painter-” The words die from her mouth as she makes eye contact with me, her body language transforming from pissed off and about to do something about it to totally chill.

  “The face painter…” I helpfully supply, wondering if she’ll finish that sentence.

  “You’re Gabriel Bishop,” she breathes, clutching the dog under her arm tightly to her chest.

  I nod, not sure where she’s going with this.

  “Are you- Do you live here?” She smooths her hair in place, giving me a flirtatious smile. “What brings you to my party?”