Page 59 of The Billionaire Invitation

North Shore Style was a respectable social magazine for local readers in the affluent Illinois areas. They had featured Crane Hotel before. And had done write-ups on many of the restaurants in town. It wasn’t outside of their purview to take an interest in charity organizations, either. This issue in particular would feature several local charities. That Honesty would have the cover was a huge coup. He had the gods to thank for that. The curiosity about them as a couple from that first round of viral photos had never fully died.

He lowered his phone, his mind spinning with ideas.

“Everything okay?” Honesty asked, startling him.

He hadn’t heard her morning voice—low, sleepy and borderline sexy—in a long time. He gave her a smile. She was radiant and beautiful, her long dark hair starkly contrasted against his bare chest. Her cheeks were warm and rosy, and she was gloriously naked under that sheet.

“Dante?”

“Uh, yes. Fine. Sorry to wake you.”

“Don’t be. What time is it?” She reached for her own phone on her dresser, losing a goodly part of that sheet and gifting his eyes with a view of her smooth back and amazing ass.

“Nine-thirty.”

“Nine-thirty?!” She huffed as she thumbed through her phone. “Gabby texted to tell me to take my time and enjoy my company. She is the worst.”

Dante chuckled. “Have I mentioned how much I like her?”

She didn’t laugh with him. “I need to get going. I don’t have any appointments until one o’clock, but there are a lot of to-do’s that I’ve back-burnered. I don’t even want to look at the number of emails in that red dot.”

She flipped her phone so that the screen was facing him. With one eye closed, she asked, “What’s it say?”

“Forty-three.”

Her jaw dropped before checking for herself. “It says twelve, you jerk.”

“You might want to let Gabby know to push your one o’clock.”

“What? Why?”

“I have a proposition for you.” He took her phone and his and set them on the nightstand. When he rolled over to face her she was already laughing and shaking her head simultaneously.

“You cannot be serious. I can’t stay in this bed with you all afternoon. I need a break!”

“As tempting as that is…” He snuggled her close, bracketing her with his arms. “I’m not talking about having more sex. North Shore Style wants to interview us about Long Live Food.”

“North Shore Style?” She blinked up at him. “As in North Shore Style who gives out the Purpose Award to local businesses each year?”

He was impressed. He’d had no idea she kept up with socialite magazines. “One and the same. This is their signature issue. Purpose Plus⁠—”

“Power. Oh my God.” She shoved him aside and climbed out of bed, naked for a few blessed seconds before she pulled on a cotton robe with a jungle motif print and tied it around her waist. “I have wanted to win that award since I opened Honest Nutrition. I tried for the first two years to get the attention of the editor so that I could do an interview but they ignored my emails.”

Her hand went to her forehead as she paced the floors. Then she stopped and faced him.

“You’ve been in town a little over a week and they’re offering it to you.”

“To us.”

She tucked her hair behind her ears and frowned.

“This is good news, Honesty.” He stood and cupped her forearms with both hands. “This is great for the charity, for Eli, for my foundation. Everyone wins with this article. We have the cover if we want it.”

“The cover?” she squeaked.

“What’s the problem? It sounds like everything you’ve wanted is arriving on a silver platter.”

“Yeah, a silver platter with the Crane family crest on it.” She sat on the edge of the bed. He sat with her. “Would I have been able to do any of this on my own? Or is it happening because you’re involved?”