Page 30 of The Billionaire's Special Relationship

She nodded. “Me too,” she said with furrowed eyebrows, and she said it in a way that endeared her to him even more.

Then she thought about something. “Wasn’t you supposed to meet a realtor?”

“Yes. But I canceledwhile the cops were questioning you,” he said.

But that answer, for some reason, touched her even more than the fact that he came back to her house. That answer only made her keep taking peeps at him. After what Darius did to her, she was ready to close the book on men. She was ready to live her life alone for the rest of her life.

But then she met a man like Stuart. A man who at first didn’t want to help her seemingly at all, but did so anyway. And now seemed actually willing to help her. Why else would he take charge of her safety like he was doing? He could have turned her over to the cops and took off. But he didn’t. That fact, and the fact that he cancelled the very appointment he came all the way to Ohio to handle, his mother’s property, loomed large to her.

And the fact that he, consciously or not, referred to himself as her boyfriend loomed even larger.

Not that he meant it. He couldn’t have meant it. But because he said it and didn’t immediately correct himself was what still lingered with her. Because that was different. She was accustomed to men who couldn’t wait to run away from commitment of any degree, rather than volunteer for it. But Stuart took it upon himself to come back to her. That was the difference. That was a welcomed change.

And that was why she stopped asking him questions because she knew it was all good, but it was also all temporary. This man would soon leave Larkin and go on with his life. He’d forget her face first,and then her name. He would soon forget all about her. So she stopped sweating the small stuff and just enjoyed his goodness while she could.

But when he took her to the best motel in a town that had no hotels, and checked them into a room together, his goodness took on an entirely different meaning.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Stuart’s son Alan Jacobs got off of the elevator in the parking garage of his luxury condo building and headed for his automobile. But he was on his phone the entire time. “It’s not what they want. It’s what we want. And we don’t want any sixty-forty split. They can forget that shit. We want eighty-twenty with additional terms to be negotiated. That’s how you sell it. Forget anything else. We’re willing to invest, but only on our terms. The eighty-twenty split is non-negotiable.”

He heard car wheels squeal behind him. “Who the fuck is driving that fast in a fucking garage?” he asked out loud as he turned to see just who it could be. Some rich kid with no home training was his first thought.

But when he turned to see for himself, that was when he saw the tinted window of a BMW pressed down and a gun appeared.

As soon as he saw that gun, his heart dropped and he began running to his own vehicle. The shots rang out as he was opening his car door, and although he tried to dive in, it was too late. He was shot repeatedly before he could get inside. And then he slid down to the ground.

And the gun withdrew, the window was pressed back up, and the BMW this time, as if the occupant hadn’t just ambushed a billionaire’s son, very slowly, very casually, drove away.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The Larkin Inn was considered the best motel in town, but it was well below the five-star hotels Stuart was used to. But he could see how emotionally drained Tabby was. He wasn’t about to drive her all the way to the big city just because of his desire for five-star luxury. This motel would have to do.

Because it was a muscle-car convention in town, they had only one motel room still available with two beds. So he took it.

But as soon as they entered the room, that tiredness overtook Tabby and she crawled onto the first bed she came to and fell flat on her face. It was a soft bed, and luxurious in her eyes. It was just what she needed.

Stuart didn’t try to avert her in any way. He was pleased she was comfortable. He placed her overnight bag on the suitcase stand and his small, toiletry case in the bathroom. Then he went and sat on the side of the second double bed, removed his tie and suit coat, and then removed his dress shoes. It was his normal, everyday attire. He had very few casual clothes. Which he knew was directly related to the fact that he was and always had been a workaholic. Dellstone was his passion. That was also what led him to lose his company to his own son, and to lose every relationship he’dever had. He was too busy adding more and more to the forest that he couldn’t see the trees. And that every tree was dying right around him. Or plotting to choke the life out of him. Everything he touched seemed to end acrimoniously.

Would the same be true with Tabby, he asked himself as he sat on that bed staring at her. But he caught himself. Why was he even considering such a thing? He spoke of her as if she wasn’t going to be some fleeting afterthought that would disappear from his memory as soon as he left town. She’d already left a lasting impression on him. But why, was the question. The same question she asked him: Why did he go back? Why did he search her out two years ago and give her that big tip when he never intervened when his friends were rude to other waitresses? Why did he intervene for her? Why did he go to that police station as if he’d never seen injustice before? He’d seen it all his life and never got involved. Why did he get involved for Tabby?

He didn’t know, as he sat there staring at her slender frame stretched out on that bed. He couldn’t answer any of those questions. He stopped trying when she turned and looked at him. “I’m going to get in the tub.”

“I thought you just got out of the shower.”

“But they touched me,” she said and then she scrunched up her face.

Stuart could have kicked himself for not realizing what he was saying. Of course she wanted to washthe memory of that moment off of her, and their hands, and how they smelled, and how they looked at her body. “I’ll run your bath,” he said, got up, and went into the bathroom.

He was just turning off the water tap by the time Tabby made it into the bathroom. Wearing one of the white terrycloth bathrobes from the closet, she made her way to the tub.

He was still seated on the edge of the tub. “Tap your feet in and let me know if it’s too hot for you,” he said.

Tabby placed her hand on his broad shoulder and did as he asked. At first she was afraid it was going to be too hot, but as her feet relaxed in the tub she realized it wasn’t.

“It’s too hot?”

“No, it’s good,” she said.