“I like it a lot,” he says, gesturing at the folding chair in front of my desk. “Can we sit for a minute?”
I hesitate a moment before saying, “Sure.”
Olivier unbuttons his suit coat and sits down.
“You seem skeptical of me, Daphne,” he says, meeting my eyes.
“I’m not skeptical of you, it’s more…confused, I guess.”
He reaches into an inner pocket of his coat and takes out an envelope, passing it across my desk to me.
“I wanted to make a donation to Safe Harbor.”
I cringe. Of course I had to be an asshole to him out in the lobby when he came here to make a donation. I peek in the envelope, see a check for $25,000, and cringe again.
“That’s so generous of you,” I say, looking up at him. “Thank you.”
“You don’t look pleased.”
I smile. “I am. Thank you. I just wish I hadn’t been so prickly out in the lobby.”
The corners of his eyes crinkle as Olivier smiles back at me. “Don’t worry about it. I think maybe we’re both just strong-willed.”
“Is that a nice way of saying we’re stubborn and difficult?”
He shrugs. “I know I can be at times.”
I don’t know why him admitting that is so sexy, but it is. I’m still used to Aiden, who wouldn’t admit he was wrong even when he was caught red-handed. He blamed his cheating on me working too much and losing interest in sex.
“I suppose I can be a little bit stubborn,” I admit. “On occasion.”
Olivier holds my gaze, and the silence between us isn’t awkward. I can tell he wants to say something, so I wait. The last thing I want to do is tell him I need to get going and have him pull another envelope out of his pocket.
“Can I take you out for dinner sometime?” he asks.
“Me?” My lips part with surprise.
“You.”
“But why?”
He gives me a wry grin. “Because I like you.”
I look down at my desk, trying to figure out what to say. And of course, what I say ends up sounding awkward.
“Is this about the hashtag?”
“No. I honestly don’t like all this attention any more than you do.”
“But if we…I mean, they’d go nuts if we were seen going out for dinner together.”
He shrugs. “I have good security. I’ll make sure we have privacy.”
I think I’d like to get to know Olivier better. Obviously, he’s nice and beyond worthy of any woman’s attention. But I can’t bring myself to say yes. I’m still finding my way after the breakup with Aiden and the accident. And Olivier is a billionaire. He had no trouble chatting it up with my parents about the stock market and interest rates. His world is the one I’m trying to get further away from, not deeper into.
“I’m flattered, but I have to decline,” I say, my heart hammering.
His expression stays neutral as he nods.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt out, standing up. “It’s just that you’re…anyway, it doesn’t matter. I need to go.”
“Am I too old for you?”
“No!” I feel my cheeks warming. “It’s not that.”
“Then what?”
I lock eyes with him and admit the truth. “You’re too rich.”
He lowers his brows, genuinely confused. “I’m too…rich?”
“Yes. I know it sounds crazy, but that’s just not me. My grandmother is hardly leaving me anything in her will because she’s worried I’ll just give it all to charity. And she’s right.”
“Is that truly the reason?” He stands up, too.
“It is. I mean, there’s also the fact that I want to get rid of the photographers following me every day. But I…when I decide to date again, it’ll be someone like a poet. Or a musician. Maybe a guy who works for Doctors Without Borders. I’m just not meant to go out with a billionaire.”
He narrows his eyes, the corners of his lips twitching with a smile. “I didn’t think you were the type of woman to judge people by how much money they have.”
“That’s…you’re ridiculous,” I say, flustered. “And I really do have to go so I can get back before dark.”
“Take my security guy with you. You won’t even know he’s there and he’ll carry the pack.”
“It’s okay. I’m fine.” I walk out of my office, my heart still pounding. I turn to look at him over my shoulder. “Do you want the donation back?”
He scoffs. “No.”
“Thank you again,” I say, the awkwardness so real I want to crawl under a chair. “For the donation.”
“It was my pleasure. Take care, Daphne.”
“Bye.”
He buttons his coat, puts on his gloves and leaves. I bury my face in my hands, wishing I could text Julia about what just happened. I have to get this stuff delivered, though, so I put the heavy backpack back on, waiting a couple minutes to leave so I don’t have to face Olivier again.
When I walk out the door, the icy Chicago wind whips against my face. A big guy in a dark coat is tailing me, and I know it’s Olivier’s security guy.
Stubborn ass. He’s right, though, we are a lot alike. Which is why, other than the fact that he’s a billionaire, nothing could ever work between us.
Chapter Seven
Olivier
“Is everyone in the conference room?” I ask Hassan, glancing at my watch.
“All but one of the in-person attendees are there and we’re still waiting on two of the video attendees.”
I narrow my eyes, aggravated. “So three people are late.”
“Well, not really.”
“If the meeting starts in one minute and they aren’t here, they’re late,” I snap.
I hate it when people are late. It shows disrespect for my time. There are plenty of people who do respect my time, and I prefer to do business with them.
“Well, not really,” Hassan says.
“You mean they’re not late until 10:01?” I scoff. “That’s bullshit logic. If you’re not in your chair with the meeting details in front of you at start time, you’re late.”
“But remember, I bumped the meeting back fifteen minutes so you could talk to Char Morris privately before it started. And then you and Char ended up talking yesterday so you didn’t need to do it today.”
He’s right. And while I usually would admit it, I don’t today because I’m in a foul mood and I’m looking for reasons to be pissed off. Hassan is used to this, and he’s also used to getting a very large bonus at the end of every year for dealing with my surliness.
I still can’t believe Daphne turned me down yesterday. I haven’t asked a woman out in a long time, but it’s like riding a bike. The donation to Safe Harbor should have softened her up.
Too rich. Not a poet. I can’t believe those are her reasons for saying no. I’m not used to that word, and I don’t fucking like it. Not when it comes to women, and not when it comes to business.
“Looks like Larry Knowles is signing on. I need to go make sure his video connection is good,” Hassan says after reading a message on his computer screen.