Page 52 of The October Arrangement

“Poor billionaire.” I smiled. “Forced to go run his empire.”

“Development company,” he said.

“Whatever.” I grinned.

“Whatever?” A smile perched on his lips.

“Buildings, money, and men in expensive suits sitting around a conference table pretending everything is an emergency.”

“That is an incredibly offensive description of Montclair Development Group.” He chuckled.

“Is it accurate?” My brow raised.

“Pretty much.”

He threw the covers back and climbed out of bed. My eyes fixated on his muscular body. He caught me staring.

“See something you like?” he smirked.

“Go take your shower.” I threw a pillow at him.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He winked and disappeared into the bathroom.

I lay there for a moment and stared at the ceiling. I was in Simon’s room, in his bed. I’d walked past his room over a dozen times since I’d moved in, and now I knew what it felt like to fall asleep beside him. I climbed out of bed, gathered my clothes from the floor, and went to my bedroom where I slipped on my robe.

I was sitting at the island with my hands wrapped around the warm mug of caffeine I desperately needed when Simon stepped into the kitchen. He looked incredibly handsome in his black suit and crisp white shirt, his cologne filtering through the air. He walked over to the coffee machine and brewed himself a cup of coffee.

“Here.” He reached inside his wallet, pulled out a credit card, and handed it to me.

“What’s this for?” My brows furrowed.

“You’re going to need a formal dress for the charity event Saturday night. Go out today and buy one. You’ll need shoes too.”

I looked down at the card and then back at him. “You’re giving me your credit card?”

“Yes.” He tipped the cup to his lips.

“To buy a dress?” I asked.

“And shoes,” he smirked. “Why are you looking at me like I just handed you a live grenade?”

“Because I can buy my own dress, Simon.”

“I know you can, Bella.”

“Then why would I use your credit card?”

“Because I’m asking you to go with me.”

“Just because you asked me doesn’t mean you have to dress me.”

“I’m not dressing you. Although, if you’d like me to—” He smiled.

“Don’t do that. Take it back.” I held the card out to him.

“No,” he said.

“Simon.” I cocked my head.