Page 32 of The Billionaire Invitation

“I can’t let you do it.”

“You’re going to help a lot of people. I know it. You know it.”

“What’s in it for you?” She had to ask. There had to be something.

“Okay, that’s a fair question. I have been looking for a meaningful foothold in Chicago for the Moretti Foundation. This—you—landed in my lap. I have no reason to look further. You’re reliable, you’re genuine. You need funding. I have that.”

Exactly what she was afraid of—needing him. She didn’t want to be reliant on someone who might not see things through to the end. But that had happened when they’d been in college, and Dante had never been her financier.

“It’s a win for everyone involved.”

Dammit. That was unfortunately true. She shouldn’t consider his offer, but Elijah Crane had access to a lot of people she could help. And Dante had advice and the grant money that would get her nonprofit off the ground.

It wasn’t every day someone offered millions of dollars to aid veterans, no strings attached. If Christian were sitting at this table, he would hold out his hand to shake on it regardless of Dante’s and Honesty’s history. Christian had known that people were what mattered. Little else. Whatever past stood between Dante and Honesty wasn’t as important as the veterans who needed this service.

“Housing, nutrition, daily living support, community reintegration,” she said, running down the list of benefits she would provide. “Mental health would improve. Lives will be saved.” Her vision was vivid and bright. The only thing missing was exactly what Dante was offering—and with Eli’s help, she could hit the ground running.

“Yes. And this is a normal practice,” Dante told her. “Private foundations give grants to qualified nonprofits all the time. The Moretti Foundation is the money. Your nonprofit is the mission and the service. I’ll seed the grant, we’ll sign some paperwork. It’s a done deal.”

“The Moretti Foundation could partner with any established charity in Chicago. You have to admit this is a tad messy given our current…arrangement.”

He didn’t flinch. “Not if we don’t let it be. You know the community. You have the service. And you have a personal connection to support what you’re building.”

“Christian.”

“Christian,” he confirmed. “And if we set aside our arrangement, as you called it, we could do a lot of good. This isn’t about me parachuting in to hand you an oversized check and take the credit. This is what I do. This is who I am.”

She smiled softly. He was who he was thanks to him leaving Chicago years ago. That part stung: that everything had improved for him tenfold after he’d left her.

“This is your gig,” he reminded her. “You will be the face of your nonprofit, not me.”

“I don’t care about that.”

“You need to. Donors will want to be associated with you because of your personal connection to this work. They’ll want to brag to their friends about how much they love to support you. They don’t want a talking head in a nice suit.” He gestured to himself.

He was so much more than a talking head in a nice suit. “You make it sound simple. Not so simple if people find out I’m sleeping with the man writing the checks.”

Dante leaned in and lowered his voice. “According to those photos, we already are. And Eli and Isa think it’s great.”

“That we’re sleeping together?” she squeaked, her eyes widening in horror.

“That the photos are circulating,” Dante said through a chuckle. “They understand the power of the press.”

“Oh.” She sat back in her chair and sipped from her wine glass. “And you think he’ll cosign my pilot nonprofit?”

“Yes, but…”

She braced for the other shoe to drop.

“I think you should ask to work with a client. It’ll showcase the model you’re building and give you an organic reason to share about it on social media.”

She sat up straight. “I would love that.”

She’d had enough of tax laws and paperwork and the ambiguous nonsense that went along with building a nonprofit. She wanted to work with people again. She didn’t realize how much she’d missed it until just now.

She spent the rest of their dinner chatting about how much a partnership with Eli’s charity would benefit all of them. The more she talked, the more opportunities she saw. She was so excited about her vision, she forgot she was supposed to be keeping her guard up. By the time the waiter dropped off a dessert menu, she was spilling over with ideas.

“I can’t hold another bite,” she told Dante. “You?”