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Xavier’s emotions were running understandably high, but he had to understand the gravity of his situation.
He’d grown up a billionaire’s son. He had no concept of what it was like to live without a massive cushion of money.
He was quiet for a long moment. “What did your parents want you to be when you were little?”
I startled at the abrupt question and answered frankly. “They wanted me to be the perfect socialite. Attend an Ivy League college to get a husband instead of a job, marry someone from a respectable family, and spend the rest of my life decorating and hosting charity galas.”
There was nothing wrong with any of those things. They just weren’t for me.
“And now you’re a hotshot publicist.” We turned the corner, and the square came into view. “Let’s say you and your father are still talking. What would you do if he said he’ll cut you off unless you quit your job and marry some polo-playing douche named Gideon?”
Touché.
“I’d tell him to fuck off.” Which I basically had. “Though ironically, I dated a polo player named Gideon in high school and yes, he was a douche.”
That earned me a soft laugh.
“Your turn to be honest,” he said. “People’s reputations and livelihoods depend on you. Are you ever scared you’ll fuck it up?” “Sometimes.” I was confident in my skills, but like everyone,
I had my moments of doubt. Was I giving my client bad advice? Did I use the wrong turn of phrase? Should I have pushed them to do an interview with this outlet or that one? The second-guessing was enough to drive me out of my mind, but at the end of the day, I had to trust my gut. “But that’s the thing about reputations and livelihoods. They can be rebuilt.”
“Careful, Luna. You sound almost optimistic.”
I rolled my eyes, but a smile threatened to escape as we wound toward the Palace of Justice anchoring one side of the plaza.
“You make it sound like I’m doom and gloom all the time. I’m a fun person.”
“Hmm.”
I frowned. “Just because I don’t go clubbing every night or party on yachts every weekend doesn’t mean I’m not fun.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Stop doing that!”
“Doing what?” Xavier asked innocently. “Making that noise. I canhearyour skepticism.”
It was stupid to take offense, considering my job wasn’t to befun, but I knew how to have a good time. My friends and I met for weekly happy hours in New York, and I’d (reluctantly) agreed to a lap dance during Isabella’s bachelorette party. I’d danced on a tabletop in Spain, for Christ’s sake! Granted, I’d been wasted at the time, but it was the action that counted.
“I didn’t say a single word. What you infer from my noises is on you,” Xavier quipped.
“If manipulating semantics were a job, you’d be the CEO,” I muttered. “You—”Wait a minute.
I came to such a sudden halt, the tourists behind us almost crashed into me.
“No.” My heart picked up speed until it thrummed like a trapped hummingbird. “It can’t be that simple.”
“What?” Xavier demanded. He glanced around us in case of trouble.
I replayed the reading of the will in my head. I was almost certain…no, I waspositiveI was right.
“I have it,” I said breathlessly.
“Have what? You gotta give me more than that, Luna.”
“I have a solution to your problem.” I grabbed his arm, too excited to contain myself. “Your father’s will says you have to assume the CEO position. It didn’t specify what you have to be the CEOof.”
Xavier stared at me.
