Page 3 of The Billionaire's Special Relationship

He could also see her anger as she frowned at him. “Speak with me about what? You got your laugh. You had your jokes. What you wanna talk to me for?”

She was a gorgeous girl, Stuart thought, but she seemed to carry the weight of the world on her little shoulders. And her eyes. They weresoooexpressive. He would never forget those eyes.

And although the sadness was still there, he saw fire in those eyes now too. She took it when Jennifer was dishing it out to her. He could tell, by those eyes alone, that she wasn’t taking it anymore. “I’ll be brief,” he reassured her.

Tabby didn’t know how to take him. Sheremembered how he was the only one at that table who wasn’t laughing at her, which was a plus in his favor, but he was still at that table. Which meant he was just like them as far as she was concerned. She wouldn’t dare hang out with people who could be so cruel, unless she was cruel too.

But she wasn’t going to lash out at him when he at least asked politely if he could say something to her. She let him have his say.

But when he asked her name, that stumped her. Why would her name matter to him? Nobody cared to know her name or anything about her, except for the creeps that wanted to get in her panties, so to have him ask such a question took her by surprise. He didn’t come across as the kind of man that would be hitting on her. She was only twenty-five when he looked to be in his mid-forties or something close to that.

But her hesitation did cause Stuart to ask again. “What’s your name?”

His insistence caused her to answer him. “Tabitha Morgan.”

“What do they call you? Because I know your friends don’t go around calling you Tabitha.”

Although he smiled, she didn’t. “Why would thatmatter to you, sir? I mean seriously why?”

But when Stuart waited for his question to be answered, as if he could wait all day, she gave in. “Tabby. Okay? They call me Tabby.”

Stuart reached into his inner coat pocket, pulled out his check book and a pen, and began writing.“Is Tabitha spelled the usual way?” He asked this and then looked at her.

She was confused. And suspicious. What was this about? “Yes,” she said. “It’s spelled the usual way. But why do you need to know that?”

Stuart began filling in the check. Then he tore it out of his book and reached it out to her.

But she didn’t grab it. Nobody had ever given her a nickel without wanting something in return. And she was never going to be the kind of girl who gave out favors for money. “What’s that for?” she asked him.

“It’s an apology,” Stuart admitted. “I’m not here to apologize for my friends. Only for myself. I apologize, Miss Morgan. Please forgive my silence. I should have rebuked those at my table, but I didn’t. I generally don’t get involved with other people’s drama. I let grownups handle their problems themselves because in my experience, that’s usually the best outcome. But this was not a problem of your making. This check is your tip because you attempted to give us excellent customer servicethat was rejected. I have no cash at the moment, I’m afraid. It will have to be a check. But please accept this tip with my apology.”

He had kind eyes, Tabby thought. But so did serial killers. “If you’re so generous and kind like this,” she said, “why do you have friends like them?”

It was a question no one would dare ask Stuart Jacobs in the real world. But he appreciated the fact that she asked what was on her heart. It was an honest question that deserved an honest answer. “I’m not kind,” he said. “I mind my own business. I don’t get involved. I’m a very selfish individual.”

His brutally honest response surprised Tabby even more. But it made no sense. “If you’re such a bad man,” she said, “why do you care if I get a tip?”

Another great question, Stuart thought. She was sharp. He liked that about her too.

But while he attempted to formulate a response, she was asking another piercing question: “Why are you doing this for me, Mister?” Her eyes were begging for an answer. “The way y’all treated me at that table? Make it make sense.”

He wanted to say that his generosity was because he saw something in her: aninnocence, perhaps, that he was unaccustomed to seeing. But he never delved that deep with anyone. And especially somebody he’d just met. “I’m doing this, young lady,” he said, “because I can. Because right is still right and wrong is still wrong. And we were wrong.”

She was surprised that he would include himself in that group. But he’d already said he wasn’t kind. And, truth be told, he was in that group.

Or was it a part of the game? Would they laugh her to scorn if she tried to cash that check?

But either way, she took the check. She never turned down tips. She earned those. “Thank you,” she said. “Although most people tip after the service is done.”

“I know. But I’m sure you aren’t coming back to our table any time soon,” he said with a smile. Which made her smile too. “I felt you could use a lift,” he added.

She looked her beautiful eyes into his kind eyes. “Thank you,” she said again.

“You’re very welcomed.” As he was turning to leave, she caught him glancing down her body with an assessing look. Which made her wonder if that “tip” was for more than just good service.

But apparently it was because he kept going.He didn’t try to turn back around and ask for her phone number or anything crazy like that. And she had to admit that when he was checking out her body, it did affect her. And not in that creepy way when other customers did that to her. But in a good way. In that way that made her want to check him out too, because he was a very nice-looking man. But she didn’t bother. Because she knew it wouldn’t matter anyway.

But when she finally looked at the check he had written, she expected to find maybe fifty dollars, or a hundred bucks if she was fortunate. But when she looked and saw that he had “tipped” herfive thousand dollars, that fog of confusion lifted and she forgot everything about their encounter. Because this kind of money was lifechanging for somebody like her. She could pay off her car. She could put three months’ worth of mortgage payments in the bank and never be in the hole again. She could fill her frig with groceries.