Shopping for a Billionaire 4(19)
Author: Julia Kent

Speak of the queen bee.

Optical illusion, right? My brain created it. They take three steps to the left and disappear, the long white floor making a channel of white light into a tunnel that feeds into a glass-covered wall at the building’s exterior. I feel like something out of a movie about death and the afterlife.

Like being reborn.

What would Declan be doing here? It’s a Saturday, and we’re across the bay. There’s no reason for him and his brother to be in this high-rise business building unless…

My eyes scan the walls near the bathroom doors. If I’m right, I’ll find it in under a minute. And…yes. “Employees Only.”

And next to that door is a small placard that reads:

“Managed By Anterdec Industries.”

His company owns this building, and there are five thousand runners and friends using it for the race’s headquarters, which means my heart starts to race and my palms sweat, because I am about to see him for the first time since our disastrous last meeting.

All because of a few bees outside.

Maybe Andrew’s got it right. What if sealing yourself off from the rest of the world because you know there’s one lethal enemy out there that is sociopathic and ready to destroy you with one touch is the right move after all? What if one sigh, one hitched eyebrow, one frown, one dismissive huff could crush you?

Would you do everything in your power to get away from them—forever?

Reason would dictate that any person of average intelligence and with a little common sense would do so.

Especially my heart. Because while I won’t go to his extremes to protect myself from the absolutely random, utterly errant, highly unpredictable sting, I might hermetically seal up my heart because—

This is just too hard.

Suddenly, I understand Declan’s brother better. Screw the world—I’ll just build a bubble around myself and not even try to justify it. Make the world bend to me. Team Andrew all the way. 

I should get some oranges and Gatorade and toss them his way. Maybe a little to the left, though, where Declan’s standing.

I walk slowly down the hall toward the sunlight, glad now for my tennis shoes, which make not a single sound on the floor. Two men’s voices murmur softly to each other, and I slow down. What a dilemma.

Walk past them and acknowledge their presence, or march on past and pretend I’m not there?

I’m not there.

Notice how I said that? Not pretend they’re not there. Me. I make myself invisible because I don’t know any other way.

“You should say something to her,” Andrew says. I freeze. A handful of people run to and fro in the space at the end of the hall, all of them wearing jogger’s shorts and carrying clipboards. The leaders are only a few minutes away and I need to go somewhere to help.

Missing this conversation, though, is worth incurring the wrath of Amy.

“Jessica’s here. I don’t want to add fuel that fire.” Her is Jessica? Boo. Hiss. She’s here? I’ll go back outside and risk the bees and wasps to get a giant container of Gatorade and go Belichick on her ass. Pin her down and make her talk, Pry open those Botoxed pork chop lips and—

“You’re not dating Jessica, though.” He’s not? Whew!

“And I’m not dating Shannon.” Oh! Oh! So her is me! 

“Which is stupid.” TEAM ANDREW! I knew I liked this guy!

“What? My love life isn’t any of your business.”

“Following Dad’s orders isn’t exactly your standard operating procedure, Declan.”

James? What the hell does James have to do with Declan’s dating me? Orders?

I am sliding against the textured, wallpapered wall like a ninja, but with a rack like mine I resemble a silent warrior mastermind who can make himself seem invisible and discreet about as much as LeBron James resembles Mother Teresa in the humility department.

I try anyway, because eavesdropping on this conversation is the mystery shop of a lifetime.

“Dad didn’t make me stop dating Shannon and you know it damn well, Andrew.” A long, slow, angry sigh comes out of Declan, and I can imagine him, even if I can’t see him, running a shaky hand through his hair. It’s been a month since we’ve been together and I can’t get a good look now. Is his hair growing out a bit from his super-short cut? Does he get it clipped regularly? Does he still smell like—

Andrew laughs, the kind of noise only a sibling can make. “Then you’re being even more ridiculous than I thought. Not pissing Dad off is one thing. Dumping the first woman I’ve ever heard you really fall for is just asinine, and your reason is stupid. Plus, she has a hot friend.”

Falling for? Reason? Hot friend? He thinks Amanda’s hot? I need to tell her so she can run away from the killer bees and come in here and—

Wait—WHAT REASON? Maybe I don’t need to kidnap Jessica after all. I crane my neck, inches away from the end of the hall, now exposing myself to certain discovery but not caring. I have to know. I need to know. He wouldn’t tell me when I asked, and now this casual conversation tells me more than anything I’ve guessed.

“Dad’s wrong about plenty of issues, but not this one,” Declan says.

“Dec.” Andrew’s voice is suddenly so pained it makes me pause. Sometimes one syllable can have more emotion in it than one thousand words.

An involuntary sadness fills me. “It wasn’t your fault,” Andrew continues. What wasn’t his fault? Our breakup? Because it damn sure was Declan’s fault! I didn’t dump him in the hallway of his company while Mail Boy rubbernecked with a cart creakier than a rusted Tin Man.

This is one of those moments where blood rushes to my ears, I can count the molecules in my breath, the ceiling seems lower suddenly, and the walls expand as if they seek infinity.

The moment when my life unfolds, for good or for bad.

“You keep saying that,” Declan responds. “Been saying it for ten years.”

Ten years? He’s only known me for a month.

“And I’ll say it for rest of my life,” Andrew adds. I hear him take a deep breath to say something more, and just when I think I’m about to understand how the world works, how all the gears fit into place to turn the crank and function, why Declan broke up with me, and how maybe—just the tiniest taste of maybe?—I can find my way back to him, I hear:

“Oh. Hello.” Declan’s voice goes tight. He’s clearly talking with someone he didn’t expect to see. Did Jessica crash my conversation?