She gave me a playful swat. “Oh, you are a charmer, aren’t you?”
I chuckled and leaned back in my chair. Darla handed me a glass of what looked like sangria, and I took a sip, eager for some liquid fortification. “Damn. This is smooth.”
“Hibiscus sangria.”
“Delicious.” I savored the flavor, analyzing it. “I’d love the recipe for the café.”
“Good luck with that,” Mary muttered. She leaned over and held a hand up to her mouth. “Secret recipe, so she says.”
I laughed. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so at ease. Ever since taking over as CEO four months ago for my family’s luxury hotel business, my life had become one meeting after another—politics and posturing. But these women were funny and authentic. They didn’t hold back. They told it exactly how it was.
“You didn’t answer the question.” Becky nudged me.
“A gentleman never tells.”
“I was under the impression that label didn’t apply to you,” Mary said.
Their responses were a chorus of “ooh” and “burn.” I chuckled, enjoying their good-natured ribbing.
“So why did you really lure me here today?” I asked.
“Well, we’ve been reading some billionaire romances…” Beth started.
I arched my brow. Billionaire romances? That was a thing?
“And we wanted to know how accurate they were.”
“Okay.” I was game for just about anything. “Sure.”
“So, in this one book,” Becky started, “the billionaire had a?—”
“Sex club,” Beth interrupted. “Do you own a sex club?”
I nearly choked on my sangria. “No. Jesus.” I coughed a few more times.
“But you have a private plane.”
“And a private helicopter,” Darla chimed in.
I furrowed my brow. “What does my family’s private plane have to do with a sex club?”
I could envision the horror on the board members’ faces if I suggested such a thing. The amusement alone might be worth the mention.
“Nothing,” Beth said, interrupting my runaway train of thoughts. “We’re just trying to establish the profile of a real-life billionaire.”
“So…since the fictional ones have sex clubs,” I said, “you’re wondering if that holds true in real life?”
“Maybe,” Mary said. “Or if they frequent them.”
Interesting. Okay. “Why, though? In my experience, women love the idea of dating a rich man. It’s not hard to find a willing companion you don’t have to pay.”
Mary’s eyes widened, and Becky laughed into her hand. Darla slapped me on the shoulder.
“What?” I shrugged, turning to her. “You know it’s true. Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten the many women you had to turn away.”
“Oh, I didn’t forget,” Darla sighed. “I merely tried to block it out.”
It still wasn’t as bad as some of the stuff my cousin Nate had dealt with over the years. Not only was he a billionairelike me, he was also a famous movie star. One time—before he’d met his wife, Emerson—he’d found his daughter’s previous nanny naked in his bed.
