Kitty Valentine dates a Billionaire

by Dodd, Jillian

  I have to laugh. It’s better to be friends than enemies after all.

  He gets serious quickly though, his brows meeting over the bridge of his nose. “I hate to tell you this, Kitty, but you’re not the only person in the world who’s ever had to question whether they’re right for their job. Whether they have what it takes. You know what I mean. Maybe you were past due for a reality check. No offense.”

  Right. None taken or something. “So, what? You ask yourself if you have what it takes to do a good job?”

  His eyes widen. “Duh. Yes. I do. All the time.”

  “You’re serious?”

  “Why would I lie? What, do you think I’m just trying to make you feel better?”

  “Gee, why would I think that?” I mutter as he laughs like he just heard the funniest thing ever. “It’s like I gave you credit for being a decent person for half a second. I should have known better.”

  “Come on,” he chides, still chuckling. “I was trying to have, you know, a sharing moment with you. Like, yeah, I can be vulnerable. I have feelings.” He bats his eyelashes, touching a hand to his chest.

  “Okay, you were being serious. So, you feel shaky at your job sometimes? You wonder if you’re cut out for it?”

  “At least once a week,” he admits, examining his can like it holds the secrets of the universe. “It’s one of those things. The market fluctuates more than usual, and when it gets overwhelming, I wonder if I’m doing the right thing. I mean, I’m investing somebody else’s money. I have a big responsibility. Why do you think I’m up so early in the morning?”

  “Because you’re a freak who likes getting up early in the morning?”

  “I don’t like it that much.”

  “But you admit, you’re a freak.”

  “Oh, no doubt.” He winks. “I’m up because I have to review my performance and adjust as needed. It’s stressful as hell sometimes. I think, What if I make a mistake? What if I end up losing a ton of money for my client? It’s not all fun and games and working from home.”

  “The way people think my job is,” I muse, examining my can this time. “Like it’s so easy and romantic. Nothing could be further from the truth most of the time. When I’m on a deadline, I’m lucky if I remember to eat. Sometimes when I’m not even on a deadline.”

  “Nobody has it easy.” He shrugs. “They’d call it play if it wasn’t work. But we’re both lucky to do what we do, where we do it. I remind myself of that all the time.”

  “Me too,” I agree, nodding.

  He’s looking at me from the corner of his eye. I can see it. “So … how’d it go with the flower guy? You two still dating now that the book is finished?”

  “No, but it doesn’t have anything to do with the book. We aren’t a good fit.”

  “It happens.”

  My shoulders hunch up around my ears. “I know.”

  “You’re upset about it though. I’m sorry.”

  “I’m a little sad,” I admit. “But not upset. Like you said, it happens.”

  “At least you got to see what it was like to be super rich, right?”

  That earns him a laugh. “Yeah, and I know for sure that I’d never want to be that wealthy.”

  “Liar.”

  “No! It’s true! I couldn’t handle it. Always under a microscope, feeling like I have something to prove. There’s no end to it either. Like running in a hamster wheel and never getting anywhere.”

  He mulls this over in silence, staring out at the sunset. “I know this is gonna sound snarky, but there’s a reason you’re a writer. You have a way of putting things.”

  That’s probably as glowing a compliment I’ll ever get from him, so I accept it without a retort. “Thanks.”

  “So”—his smile is wide, knowing—“what’s next? You dated your billionaire boss. Will you try a subway busker next?”

  “Hush.”

  “Trash collector?”

  “What would be so bad about that?”

  He can’t help but smirk, looking me up and down. “Could you make a hot romance out of dating a garbage collector?”

  “I could make a hot romance out of dating anybody.”

  “Ooh. Confident. I like that.” He cracks open another beer and then gestures to the rest with his brows lifted.

  “Nah. We don’t need to tempt fate. You’ve already seen what happens when I drink too much.”

  Though, if anything, that hideously embarrassing night broke down the walls that might have otherwise existed between us. I don’t have to be cool with him or distant or anything, and I don’t find his hotness intimidating now that I’ve smelled his morning breath.

  “True story. I still need to replace my rug.”

  “I’d be happy to do that for you.”

  “Eh. Maybe I like having something to hold over your head. Check in with me some other time.”

  “Anyway, like I was saying, I can write a hot story about any character—though I think my editor wants, you know, standard tropes. Cowboys and firefighters and bad guys.”

  “Boring.”

  “You should read my latest book when it comes out and see if you think it’s so boring,” I suggest. “Better yet, I could give you an advance copy when I get them.”

  I’ve seen him look uncomfortable—the whole puking thing and whatnot—but this is a whole other level.

  “Oh. Um … I …”

  “It would mean a lot to me,” I murmur, eyes wide. “I trust your opinion so much.”

  His mouth falls open in surprise—until he realizes I’m making fun. “Hilarious. Is there comedy in your books too? Because you’re so funny.”

  “Seriously though, no pressure. I’d like to hear your opinion.”

  “Feeling particularly masochistic today?”

  “Nah. I think you’ll like it. I do!” I insist when he shoots me a skeptical look. “You could at least try. And then maybe I’ll watch you work sometime.”

  “I don’t know who that would be less fun for.”

  “Fine, fine. Whatever.” I take another sip of my beer and turn my face toward the setting sun. The last few streaks of pure gold are starting to fade. It’s so beautiful that there’s nothing to do but sigh. “It’s a shame things like this go away. The sunset, I mean. I wish I could freeze the sky just like that.”

  “If you could though, would you appreciate it half as much as you do now?”

  “Good point.”

  He sighs too. “Fine. I’ll read your book. I hope it’s not too raunchy. I don’t like that dirty stuff.”

  I’m too pleased to make a nasty comment. I mean, the sounds coming from his apartment alone are practically enough to fuel my dirty writing.

  “Oh, don’t worry. I won’t offend you.”

  “Though, I have to say, if there’s any marching band music involved, hard pass.”

  I can’t help but giggle. “No marching band music.”

  “Nice touch, by the way.” He lifts his beer, nodding.

  “I thought so.”

  “Don’t think I’m not cooking up a way to get back at you for that,” he warns.

  I lift my beer, too, leaning over to touch my can to his. “I’d be disappointed if you weren’t.”

  Read the next book in the series, Kitty Valentine dates a Doctor.

  You can read ALL of my books for FREE on Kindle Unlimited. Keep flipping to read an excerpt of my newest series, London Prep—where the boys are as cute as their accents.

  Never miss a Jillian Dodd release! Text “Jillian” to 77222 and be notified on release day. (Message/data rates may apply.)

  You can also sign up for my NEWSLETTER.

  Hang out with me on social media: Website Instagram Facebook Facebook Reader Group

  READ MY BOOKS:

  London Prep Series

  Where the boys are as cute as their accents.

  London Prep

  London Prep: Book Two

  The Keatyn Chronicles®

  Discover a breathless f
airy-tale romance with swoon-worthy characters, suspense, and a glittering celebrity world. Fans of Gossip Girl, Pretty Little Liars, and reality TV will devour this pulse-pounding, sexy teen drama set against the backdrop of Hollywood and an East Coast boarding school. A USA TODAY BEST-SELLING SERIES.

  Like Me

  Kiss Me

  Date Me

  Love Me

  Adore Me

  Hate Me

  Get Me

  Fame

  Power

  Money

  Sex

  Love

  Keatyn Unscripted

  Aiden

  That Boy Series

  Small-town contemporary romance series about falling in love with the boy next door.

  That Boy

  That Wedding

  That Baby

  That Divorce

  That Ring

  Kitty Valentine

  When author Kitty Valentine’s latest novel totally bombs, her editor suggests she dates different kinds of men for inspiration.

  Kitty Valentine dates a Billionaire

  Kitty Valentine dates a Doctor

  Kitty Valentine dates a Rockstar

  Kitty Valentine dates a Fireman

  The Love Series

  Vegas Love

  Caught up in a firestorm of tabloid gossip, actress Ashlyn Roberts doesn’t expect to end up in Vegas — or to wake up married to the sexy Cash Crawford. A USA TODAY BEST SELLER.

  Broken Love

  Does catching the garter and bouquet at a wedding really mean you belong together? For Palmer and Cade it could be the second chance they’re looking for in this sexy romance.

  Spy Girl® Series

  A sizzling romance series filled with action and adventure. Fans of The Selection and The Hunger Games will discover a heart-pounding thrill ride of espionage and suspense set in glittering high society. (And there’s a really handsome prince.)

  The Prince

  The Eagle

  The Society

  The Valiant

  The Dauntless

  The Phoenix

  The Echelon

  Girl off the Grid

  When fashion blogger Camille and eco-photographer Adam meet, their feelings are mutual—they hate each other. Can these two stop fighting long enough to complete their magazine assignment? Or will Camille give up and go home when she discovers there’s nowhere to plug in her hair straightener? Or will they both realize that sometimes you have to go off the grid to find yourself?

  Books by my daughter, Kenzie Hart. Also FREE with Kindle Unlimited.

  The Curious Swan

  A sweet, whimsical romance set in the English countryside with a Jane Austen/Alice in Wonderland vibe.

  I Fall Apart

  This beautiful love story told in verse will take you an emotional journey—from the happiness of falling in love to the sadness of heartbreak.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Jillian Dodd is the USA Today best-selling author of more than thirty novels.

  She writes fun romances with characters her readers fall in love with—from the boy next door in the That Boy trilogy to the daughter of a famous actress in The Keatyn Chronicles to a spy who might save the world in the Spy Girl series.

  She adores writing big fat happily ever afters, wears a lot of pink, buys too many shoes, loves to travel, and is a distracted by anything covered in glitter.

  EXCERPT OF LONDON PREP

  Monday, September 24th

  No freaking breakfast.

  Statistics

  I barely make it into my seat as the bell rings, struggling to catch my breath. “I can’t believe you,” I whisper angrily to Noah.

  “You can’t believe me?” he replies, glaring at me. He crosses his arms in front of him, causing his oxford shirt to pull tight across his chest. “It took you forever in the bathroom this morning. Mum made me wait for you.” He shakes his head.

  His rude comment makes me turn my attention away from his well-defined arms and broad shoulders and back to his annoying mouth.

  “Seriously? I thought I would be kind and let you stick to your routine, and I would adapt to it. I was trying to be thoughtful. But what does that get me, ladies and gentlemen?” I say, raising my voice.

  Noah’s eyes switch from indifferent to attentive, and he starts scowling at me.

  “That almost gets me a tardy pass on my first day and no freaking breakfast.”

  “You’re dramatic.” He rolls his eyes at me before grabbing on to his backpack and pulling out a notebook.

  “No, I’m really not,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m now without food or coffee, and I have to sit next to you.”

  At first, his comment pisses me off, but then I realize something and smile. Noah’s eyes catch mine, and he tilts his head.

  “What?” he asks.

  “Well, since I have the joy and honor of sitting next to you in Statistics each morning for the next three weeks, I intend to make you pay for inducing my morning crankiness. If you don’t give me more time in the bathroom, it will be my mission to make Statistics hell for you,” I reply, feeling smug.

  Take that, Noah! My deduction skills are sharper than I expected this morning, and I silently pat myself on the back.

  Noah’s face softens, and he leans closer. The scent of fresh soap envelops me, and my mind is torn between appreciating it and being mad about him being a bathroom hog.

  “Can I let you in on a little secret?” he asks, his eyes staying connected with mine.

  It’s not the response I was expecting, but I keep my gaze locked on his.

  “What?”

  “I happen to be good—well, actually, great—at statistics. Now, you, on the other hand, apparently aren’t the best at it. So, though your threats are entertaining, you’re going to need me.”

  My mouth drops at his statement as he leans back into his chair. How in the hell did he know I was pissed about taking Statistics?

  I practically growl at him, trying to shoot daggers out of my eyes, but he just lets out an easy laugh as our teacher walks through the door.

  “Settle down, everyone,” he says, smoothly sliding his briefcase onto the desk before taking a seat on the edge, casually crossing his feet.

  From his glasses and rolled chinos, I can already tell that he’s the avocado-toast type. He looks smart and cultured, and he wants you to know it.

  “All right, since you’re all aware, today is the due date for our projects. First off, I want to congratulate those of you who completed it and warn those of you who haven’t. This is a large mark, and each day late will lose you points. If you haven’t gotten it in, come and talk with me after class. For those of you who have, well done.” He smiles. “Today, we will go around and hear what each of you have been working on over the past week and a half, but before we do, I’d like to introduce you to a new student.” He nods his head at me, motioning for me to stand up.

  “Hey,” I start, feeling everyone’s eyes on me.

  There are only around twenty in the class, but their stares makes me feel nervous.

  I refocus on the teacher. “My name is Mallory James. I’m participating in the student exchange program. I’m from New York, and I will be here for three weeks.”

  “Thank goodness,” I hear Noah mutter under his breath.

  My attention snaps from the teacher to him. My glare results in him pushing himself farther down into his chair, and I feel happy to be towering next to him.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Miss James,” the teacher says. “I’m Mr. Johnson, and this is Statistics.”

  I nod, innately knowing that my introduction is over and that I should sit back down.

  I search through the class, looking to see if I recognize any of the faces. A few look back at me, but most of them are staring forward or looking down at their desks.

  Statistics is going to be fun. Not. I glance at Noah with a huff. At least, I know someone in this class even though he’s exasperating. And maybe that
will distract me from the fact that statistics is a terrible subject and shouldn’t be allowed in high school.

  After making it through half the student project presentations and not actually learning anything, I am relieved when the bell rings. I’m already out the door when someone grabs my arm.

  I turn to see Noah.

  “Wait,” he says, looking between his hand and my eyes, dropping my arm. “Come here.”

  I’m hungry, and I don’t have the energy to argue, so I follow him out of the classroom without complaint. He leads me down a long hallway until we get to a row of lockers. Then, he pops one open and starts digging through it.

  “Here, since you didn’t get breakfast,” he states, looking down at me through his dark lashes.

  He’s holding a granola bar, which causes my eyes to light up.

  “Oh my goodness,” I say, practically drooling. I grab it from his hand, quickly open it, and take a bite. The flavor of honey and oat is divine. “You’re a lifesaver.”

  “I thought you might be hungry,” he says, letting out a laugh. He pulls out a chemistry book as I take another bite.

  “This almost makes up for this morning.” I smile at him.

  He closes his locker, leaning his shoulder against it, facing me. “Well, I couldn’t have you in a sour mood until lunch, could I?” he asks.

  “Luckily, you won’t have to deal with me,” I reply, taking note of his chemistry book. “I have Latin next.”

  “Hey, big boy,” a voice says from behind me.

  Noah’s gaze moves over my shoulder, and his face instantly lights up in a full-blown grin. And before I know it, an arm is wrapping around my shoulders.

  “I see you’ve found my best mate,” Harry, the boy from the pub, says with a grin on his face. His arm is resting on me, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and he looks between Noah and me.