BREAKING RULES FOR MR. BILLIONAIRE
pte
ry'
les. They were
er date
work with b
ver mix busines
my own interior design business, they were my bible. And now, as I sat in the back seat of a sleek b
electronic address blinking on the GPS. Penthouse. 77th floor. Har
an
d apparently allergic to interviews, relationships, and smiling. Forbes claimed he'd turned a tech
invited to redes
said no
artner gives the "we're drowning" speech across a lukewarm cup of coffee, you don
atrium. It all gleamed as though cleaned by OCD-afflicted angels. Polished marble, chrome e
pinched smile. "Mr. Hart is e
ally
he mirrored walls dark curls pinned up, white blouse tucked into black pants, and my lu
haking
it. Floor-to-ceiling windows, exposed steel beams, austere modern lines. Cold.
here
ll, broad-shouldered, and sleek in a charcoal suit.
," he said,
as exactly two
said, my voice
eled jaw, stormy gray eyes, black hair slightly tousled like he didn't care or like someone
the de
on. More lik
e meeting," I said, trying not to
hands in pockets, sizing me u
olio," he said. "You h
w. "That's one way
do whim
ing a look around the fr
led. B
to me. "Not a playground. No bright col
arms. "Then
ar more 'approachable' to the media. Apparent
think putting a rug over your frozen
. "Are you always
bored," I sai
other. The silen
he was going to kill me
"I don't think thi
nce. "Neit
e elevator, warmth seeping into my cheeks. It
ay, h
Bla
ut didn't t
s and steel," I said to him. "That's no
hit the elevator
street, I had a pounding
my shoes kicked off and my face in a pint of salted caramel i
old hi
sulted his sou
me
help it. H
eded that
e a project. Like I was being measured and rejec
find something else. Maybe Mrs. Cavanaug
ill thinks chevron
d on the desk.
red a
I ans
ry B
ause. Then a
nged m
eart
an
to design
hought you said this w
board thinks otherwise. They'v
t a com
ven re
who was halted mid-step,
l take the job. But on
was a
m to my a
e hun
, staring a
pened?" Nora a
st signed on for the most dang