My Billionaire Fling by Maci Dillon
SOPHIA
“Jarett, hi.”
“You sound knackered, sis. What’s the problem?”
“Since when do I need an excuse for calling my baby bro?”
Jarett laughs, something I don’t hear as often as I like anymore. Since the tragic death of his wife, Helena, he has lost his way somewhat.
“Never, I’m taking the mickey.”
“I’m about to leave the city and head home. Are you free to meet me? I have a business proposal I’d love you to look over for me.”
“Sure, drop in. I’m at the gallery. But ah, isn’t this something you should be taking to Roman?”
Roman is our older brother and has been in business the longest. Plus, he completed his Master’s in Business and Economics long before becoming a chef and opening his café.
“Already have. I want a second opinion.”
Technically, his will be the third set of eyes going over it since I ran it by Kelli this afternoon. After all, she’ll need to be onboard if we decide to move on this opportunity. Inevitably, it will land in the hands of our legal team before any decision is made, but Jarett is and always has been my biggest supporter.
“Ouch, the rebound opinion.”
Chuckling into the phone, I set the security alarm and exit the building. “I prefer to see it as leaving the best ‘til last.”
“Ah, you’ve earned it. See you soon.”
It’s not that I haven’t thought of taking the business international before, but the opportunity has never presented itself like this. Nor have I gone out of my way to uncover one. The least I can do is give this solid consideration.
My phone pings with a message as I stroll through the streets toward Jarett’s art gallery. He spends more time there than at home since the accident, and as much as I try not to mention it, I worry about him.
Tapping on the unknown number, my steps slow in pace as I read the message.
Unknown: Still waiting on your answer. And I don’t mean the business proposal.
Ugh. I’m about to lose my shit and blast him with a how-the-fuck did you get my number when I remember I gave him my business card. That was a poorly guarded decision.
Choosing to ignore the message for now, I keep my focus on the business at hand.
After an hour with Jarett, I’m comfortable with the idea of approaching my legal team about a potential offer of the New York agency. The clientele is considerably different, but their membership base is quite substantial. Adding the Incontro branding and introducing an elite membership option in line with what we offer our Londoner’s will create a positive enhancement and be a feeding ground for growth.
It’s close to nine in the evening before I walk into my apartment in Shoreditch. I’m grateful for the Uber Eats delivery Jarett organized for us. I place my briefcase on the countertop in the kitchen, kick off my heels, eagerly unclasp my bra, and pull it from beneath my dress.
Ahh, letting the girls out and padding barefoot around my home after a big day is the best feeling in the world. Considering a bubble bath to relax with a glass of wine, I settle on just cabernet instead. My eyes are too heavy to soak in the tub. I’d never want to get out.
Activating Alexa, I request my evening mood playlist and relax on the sofa, my feet propped up on the footstool in front of me. I lay my head back and listen to “Afterglow” by Ed Sheeran fill the room, the melody of his voice transporting me to a happy place.
Until my phone breaks the mood and beckons my attention.
Unknown: Dinner at seven? Cutlery included.
Chuckling, I add his number to my contacts list and tap out a reply.
Me:I’d like to talk more about the business opportunity.
Dots dance across the screen as he types a response.
Gabe:Call me tomorrow. I don’t talk business on dates.
I smile. Dating rule one-o-one, never discuss business or work on a first date. Except this isn’t a date.
Me: Lucky this isn’t a date.
My phone buzzes with an incoming call, his name scrolling across the screen. I consider letting it go to voicemail, but instead, I do the adult thing and swipe to answer. Before I have a chance to greet him, his voice booms through my cell.
“A date is exactly what this is, Sophia. I’ll pick you up from Incontro at seven o’clock.”
“Are you always this bossy?” I snap, pretending to be annoyed.
“You have no idea.”
“Ah, Gabe.” My voice delivers the words in a breathy moan, unable to stop visualizing just how bossy he’d be in bed. “Dinner and nothing more.”
“That sounds like a challenge I’m up for. Good night, Sophia.”
The call ends, leaving me riled up and the opposite of how I felt when I walked in a short time ago. Taking my laptop from my bag, I pour another glass of wine and settle in to do some research of my own. Who is Mr. Lugreno? I fire up Google and type in Gabe Lugreno.
Most of what I find relates to Lugreno Enterprises with the odd image of him with multiple women at his side at social events in New York City. He doesn’t appear to be the center of any scandals or newsworthy social drama which is a bonus.
Apart from a young, successful CEO with billions to his name, he appears to be a mediocre human on the verge of boring. I can’t even find any personal social media accounts.
The way he looks at me, it’s hard to believe the man could be boring at anything. Clearly, he’s well versed in keeping his private life, private—a value I respect and one we have in common.
Satisfied I haven’t agreed to a date with a self-absorbed, entitled socialite with a personal agenda outside of getting laid, I close my laptop and retreat to my bedroom to prepare for a much-needed, long hot shower.
