Page 18 of The Billionaire Invitation

Dante ordered one of his favorite red wines. “1984 if you have it. Leave the bottle.”

The bartender—Lucas, his name tag read—replied with a head nod, served their wine, and didn’t say another word. He’d picked up on the hint to leave them alone, and for that, Dante was grateful. Having to ask always made him feel like a rude asshole.

“That was presumptuous. What if I don’t like red wine?”

He leveled her with a look as they each lifted their glasses. “You used to like red wine. I’m assuming your tastes have only improved since the swill we drank in college. And if that’s the case, and your palate has radically improved, then you are in for a treat.”

“Show off.” But she tipped her head in approval after a sip.

Unfortunately, she turned her attention to her laptop. A sign that she was ready to conduct the business she’d invited him out to discuss. He settled in and gave her his full attention.

An hour later, the wine bottle was empty and their glasses nearly so, with only an inch of red wine left in each.

Honesty sagged in her chair. “I’m as ready as I can be, I guess. That’s a lot of information to retain by lunchtime tomorrow.”

“You’re ready.” He finished off the wine in his glass. Lucas perked up. Before he approached, Dante shook his head. Not yet. “If there’s a question you’re not sure how to answer, tell her that you’ll check with your partner”—he pointed at himself—“and get back with her later.”

“We’re partners now?” One dark eyebrow curved.

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“So, after I deflect, then what?”

“Shift the conversation back to the good your foundation will do with her generous donation. Don’t use the term ‘ground floor,’ but instead, refer to early adopters. People love to be first, especially when success is a forgone conclusion. And that’s how you have to think of it. The success of your to-be-named foundation is a forgone conclusion.”

“You’re right. I’ve got this.” She sat up straight and squared her shoulders. This was the Honesty he remembered. Confident, driven. She’d always known what she wanted out of life. He envied her for it—then and now.

“Ask her if she wants to write you a check before you pick up the tab,” he said.

“Before I have a place to deposit it?”

“If it’s a forgone conclusion, shouldn’t you have an account?”

“I’ll open one tomorrow morning.” She typed the item onto her running to-do list on the screen. “It’s never too soon to ask for money.”

“You’ve been paying attention.” His eyes roamed over her heart-shaped face and then down to her slim neck. She was no longer in her twenties. She had grown up, seen difficult times. She’d built the business of her dreams, was expanding. He felt an ache in the center of his chest. That wasn’t loss—it was pride.

For years he’d berated himself for leaving her behind. He had assumed she’d frozen in place without him—a still frame in a dorm room wearing a ponytail and a Northwestern hoodie. Honesty had not frozen. She had bloomed into a woman who was sure of herself and who knew what she wanted.

“Eight years ago, when I told you that Arthur had died…” He cleared his throat. Damn wine, he hadn’t meant to go there. “I want to thank you. You were there for me, saying the right things, but still owning your opinion and power. I owe you an apology for⁠—”

“You don’t have to apologize. You were handling things. You were making life-altering decisions, trying to work out logistics. It was bad timing, Dante. That’s all. Just…really bad timing.”

“That’s all?”

“As for me…I was as lost as you. I was trying to piece together what my life would look like after school. Would I work for a hospital or a wellness retreat? Would I be a solopreneur, get married, have kids?”

“And?”

“None of the above.” She finished her wine.

“Same.”

She beckoned the bartender.

“Another bottle,” Dante told Lucas at the same time Honesty said, “We’ll take the check.”

They locked eyes. Dante was aware of Lucas hovering, unsure whether he’d be closing out their tab or uncorking another bottle.