Chapter 12 - No Billionaire Rules
Elena called him.
“You kept the dollar?”
“I found it in the lake-house evidence bag.”
“You could’ve mailed it without the dramatic note.”
“I’ve been accused of many things.”
“Being dramatic isn’t usually one.”
“Maybe I’m changing.”
She smiled despite herself.
Then silence settled.
Damian spoke first.
“Dinner.”
“That sounds like an order.”
“Dinner?”
“Still sounds dangerous.”
“Elena.”
She laughed.
“What?”
“I’m trying badly here.”
“I noticed.”
He exhaled.
“Would you have dinner with me?”
“Not as my employee.”
“You’re not.”
“Not because you feel responsible for Mia.”
“I don’t.”
“Not because newspapers think we’re some fairy tale.”
“I haven’t read one in weeks.”
She hesitated.
“Friday.”
Damian smiled.
“Friday.”
Their first date was at a tiny Italian restaurant with paper menus.
No security inside.
No champagne.
No private dining room.
Mia stayed with Elena’s friend Rosa.
Damian looked uncomfortable for the first ten minutes.
Elena noticed.
“You’ve negotiated billion-dollar contracts.”
“This is worse.”
“Why?”
“I care how it ends.”
That shut her up.
They talked for three hours.
Not about Vanessa.
Not about Charles.
About ordinary things.
Elena loved old crime movies.
Damian hated olives.
He had wanted children but had convinced himself work made that impossible.
Elena once wanted to open a small housekeeping training company.
“Why didn’t you?”
“Money.”
“I can invest.”
She stared at him.
“No billionaire rules.”
He raised both hands.
“Sorry.”
They laughed.
Outside the restaurant, Damian didn’t kiss her.
He wanted to.
She knew.
Instead he said, “Good night.”
Elena took three steps toward her car.
Then turned.
“Damian.”
He looked back.
She walked over and kissed him.
Brief.
Warm.
Terrifying.
When she pulled away, he looked genuinely stunned.
“That wasn’t billionaire rules.”
“No.”
“That was my rule.”
She smiled.
Then her phone rang.
Rosa.
Elena answered.
“What’s wrong?”
Rosa’s voice shook.
“Elena, somebody broke into your apartment.”
Elena went cold.
“Mia?”
“She’s safe.”
“I had her with me downstairs.”
Elena closed her eyes.
“Thank God.”
“But they didn’t steal anything.”
Damian’s expression sharpened.
“What happened?”
Elena repeated Rosa’s words.
“They left something on Mia’s bed.”
They reached the apartment twelve minutes later.
On Mia’s pillow lay a single photograph.
Elena picked it up.
It showed Damian kissing her outside the restaurant.
Taken minutes earlier.
On the back, someone had written:
May you like
CHARLES WASN’T THE ONLY ONE.
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