New York Billionaires Series

“So wildly successful?” Mom says teasingly.

I roll my eyes. “Yes. Why is he reaching out now?”

She shrugs. “I have no idea. I’m not on his side, sweetheart, I’m on yours.”

“I know,” I say. Because if there’s one thing I’ve never doubted, it’s that. Every time he disappeared we’d become a single-parent household, with a single-parent income. And she’d picked up extra shifts without ever complaining. And now that I’ve made sure she never has to work again, she infuriates me by refusing to stop.

Mom’s voice changes in pitch, and she crosses her arms over her chest. “You’ve looked at your watch three times while you’ve been here. Where are you running off to after this?”

“I’m in no rush.”

“Pah, I know when my son has ants in his pants. Is she anyone special?”

I shake my head. A grown man, and she can still treat me like I’m eight years old. “She might be.”

“Anyone you can tell me about?”Material © of NôvelDrama.Org.

“It’s early days still,” I say. “But she lives around here actually. In the area.”

“I like her already,” Mom says. “You need someone serious. Someone with a proper job.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Is this a comment on other women I’ve dated?”

“Yes. You’re a smart man, and with just as much charm as your dad. I know you could have any woman you wanted, but the real question is, which woman do you want? You deserve the best, sweetheart.”

I sigh. Of course she thinks that. But I see Audrey’s eyes in front of me, her hopes for the future, her idealistic dreams about the world, and I know it would kill me if I broke that innocence.

And I’m not sure I’m capable of not breaking it.

“You think too highly of me,” I say.

“That’s my job. Go on, then. Go woo her and bring her home for me to meet.”

I laugh. “You’re that eager for a daughter-in-law?”

“Yes. You work too much. Balance, Carter. It’s all about balance.”

I’m still shaking my head at her words when I walk the surprisingly short distance to Audrey’s crumbling deathtrap of a house. Dad had called. Out of the blue.

I don’t know how I’d react if he did the same thing to me. Christ, will I have to start screening my calls? I can’t be responsible for what I say or do if I answer the phone only to hear his voice on the other end.

For the past decade, I’ve pushed his existence to the bottom of my mind. But I should have known he’d refused to stay buried.

I wait outside Audrey’s house, texting both her and my driver to coordinate the pickup. Tonight’s date will be different. Anticipation and desire mingle inside of me. It’s been a year and a half, for her. A year and a half.

I have to make it fucking spectacular.

Audrey opens the front door and stops when she sees me. A giant smile lights up her face, setting her eyes ablaze. Something falters in my chest.

It’s criminal, to stare at a man like that. Like he’s your favorite person in the world.

“Hello,” she says.

“Hi, kid.”

“Thanks for picking me up. What are we doing tonight?”

“Something you once told me was necessary in a relationship. I figured you should be given a chance to take me for a test run.”

Her mouth falls open. “Oh. I mean… yes. Good. I’d like that.”

I chuckle and reach out to clip her softly under the chin. “Not that, spitfire. Though it can be arranged.”

Definitely, absolutely, willingly arranged.

She blushes. “Right.”

The car takes us through the city, back into Manhattan and toward the Village. She seemed like the type to want lowkey dates. Ones where we could get to know one another, ones where we didn’t risk anyone seeing us.

She catches on as soon as Tom stops outside my building. The doorman, recognizing the car, opens her door.

“Carter…?” she asks.

I put a hand on her lower back. “Remember how you wanted a man to cook dinner with?”

“Vaguely, yes. I said that, right?”

“You definitely did. Well, tonight’s your night.”

“We’re going to your apartment,” she says in a half-whisper.

“Either that, or I’ve rented an impressive hotel room to impress you. You’ll have to guess when you see it.”

She slaps me softly on the chest. I almost reach up to grab her slim hand and press it there for good. “Fool,” she says.

“Always. Come on. The elevator is this way.”

She’s quiet on the ride up and the silence turns expectant. I haven’t invited someone into my apartment in a long time. There was a time when afterparties were common. Even a time when I’d give women I was seeing access recklessly, relentlessly, asking them to be there waiting for me after I came back from work. I think we’d both enjoyed the ridiculousness of the notion. The fake sophistication and the play at a relationship both of us knew wasn’t real.

Those days are long gone. It was superficiality and recklessness, and Audrey deserves neither of those things. This, in contrast, feels so real it threatens to break me.

“Oh,” she breathes, stepping into the hallway. She looks small beneath the high ceiling. “You have a loft apartment.”

“It’s a bit industrial, perhaps, but it has great lighting.”

Her voice is filled with awe. “There’s no way to undersell this place, you know.”

“So I shouldn’t bother trying?”