New York Billionaires Series

“The truth is that I… well, I knew if I admitted that Acture considered selling the Globe to a vulture fund, or breaking it up ourselves, you would have run from me. It would have confirmed all your worst suspicions.”

“I might’ve,” I murmur. “Back then.”Còntens bel0ngs to Nô(v)elDr/a/ma.Org

“But not now?”

I take a deep breath. “It’s hard for me to understand the thinking. Actually, that’s not true. I can understand it all too well, and wish I couldn’t. I care so much about this newspaper and the industry, and I hate, like truly hate those vulture funds. You know what they’ve already done to newspapers around the country.”

“I know,” he says quietly.

“But I also know that you don’t share that. I mean, you and your business partners are part of the ecosystem. You keep things that work alive, and make them better, and things that don’t…”

Carter’s hand covers mine. “I want to keep the Globe running. I’ve wanted that from the start. Selling it to another hedge fund has always been a backup option, and one that helped convince my business partners it was a good investment.”

“I know,” I say. And the worst part is, I do. Because if it wouldn’t be Acture, it would be someone else. Someone worse.

“But I shouldn’t have pretended that wasn’t an option at all.”

I look down at our hands, his long fingers curling around mine. Broad, short nails rest next to my almond ones. “Carter… I really like you.”

His hand tightens around mine. “Not what I expected you to say,” he murmurs. “But I really like you too.”

“I want this to work. Despite our odd working relationship, and despite the Acture and Globe thing. But it only will if we’re honest with one another, even about the hard things.”

He’s quiet for a long time, the odd, golden color of his eyes more serious than I’ve ever seen them. “Audrey, it’s been a long time since I was honest and open with someone. Since I trusted them with the hard things.”

“I don’t know if I ever have,” I whisper, and he gives a half-smile. But I know he’s talking about deeper things. About not running from the pain, from the arguments, from the difficulty.

“But you’ve been open to it from the start. You’re yourself, kid. Always, and I admire you for it.” His thumb sweeps over the back of my hand.

“You were the one who took the first step. Asking me out, and all.”

He grins. “Back when you hated dating.”

“I still hate dates. First dates, that is.”

“Good thing we’ve already had our first, then.”

I reach for him, wrapping my hands around his neck. “I want to apologize too.”

“For what?”

“For being judgemental about this,” I say. “Like you said in the car, you’ve never hidden the fact that you’re here to make money.”

He looks down at our bodies, now angled toward one another. His voice is low. “Not at the expense of people, though. And never at the expense of your affection. We’ll talk more about this from here on out.”

“I could talk to you forever,” I admit. “Never met anyone I wanted to talk to from sunrise to sundown.”

“How odd,” he murmurs, lowering his face to mine. “Because I feel the same.”

The kiss is soft and sweet, and laced with emotions that make my chest ache. Maybe this little argument was for the best… made us stronger. I wrap my arms around his neck. “I missed you,” I say.

His hands settle on my hips. “Kid, every day this week has been torture.”

“You’re right, by the way.”

“Mmm. Thanks.” He kisses along my jaw, slow, teasing touches. “About what?”

“My place is a shithole.”

He pauses at my neck, quiet laughter rocking through him. “Wow. Are you sure you’re in your right mind?”

“Fully,” I say. I can’t stop smiling. “It’s awful. But it’s mine, and it’s what I can afford right now.”

“Please let me help you look for something else.”

“We can look, yeah. But I’d very much like to cook something at yours this weekend. Maybe we can watch another movie?”

“Stay at mine tonight,” he says. “I’m not above begging, you know.”

“I didn’t pack anything today. I don’t have my toothbrush, or clean underwear, or-”

“So we’ll stop by a supermarket on our way. Come on, let’s go.”

“I have to get this article done!”

“It’s good enough.”

I laugh and lean back, out of reach from his roving lips. “As the owner of this newspaper, you should crave perfection.”

“Perfection is the enemy of efficiency,” he counters. “If what I craved was perfection, I’d have gone into a different field.”

“You have an answer to everything, don’t you?”

“Most things,” he says, grinning wide. “But not all. Audrey Ford, light of my life, will you please come home with me tonight?”

I roll my eyes, but I’m chuckling. “Yes, I will. But only if you help me finish this article.”

“I’ve never been more committed to anything,” he says.

Audrey: I think I found a winner. Look at this one.

I click the apartment link she’s sent me. It’s a fourteen-room penthouse on the Upper East Side with a price tag in the hundreds of millions. It’s also godawful, decorated with all-gold furniture and the tackiest of fountains in the hallway. I zoom in. Yes, that’s a cherub in the center.

Great views, though.

Carter: Please tell me you’re considering buying it furnished.

Audrey: Oh, of course. I wouldn’t change a thing. I can see you lounging on the seashell-shaped sofa.