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CHAPTER ELEVEN
REBECCA
Ididn’t fit in thisplace or among these people.
I knew it the second I walked out of the pool house and toward the crowd of wealthy market makers, investors, VIPs, tech elites, socialites, and groupies that made up the party. I had a few excuses as to why I was late, but the main one I didn’t want to share—that I hid in the bedroom while I stressed about the fact that I felt unprepared for an evening among people who had more money than I’d have in a hundred years.
No, athousandyears.
This whole thing made me nervous for numerous reasons, not least of which included how I enjoyed my afternoon with Landon more than I anticipated. Good looks aside, he was charming, kind, and funny in a way that didn’t come across in the many interviews I watched online before coming to South Florida. He had a woundedness too, a sort of hidden fragility that made him seem much more complicated than what I expected of the garden-variety billionaire.
“This is a beautiful night,” I told Landon as he led me around the backyard, weaving in and out of the magazine-worthy crowd. My comment sounded lame and redundant, but I couldn’t think of anything else to say after what had been a long and illuminating day. “I bet you feel happy.”
“I do. Thank you for coming.”
“Don’t mention it.”
Landon greeted a few people who seemed eager to make sure he acknowledged them. As I watched him toss them sparkling smiles and remember small details about their lives, I realized I was seeing him truly play the CEO role for the first time. This Landon was no-nonsense, pure business mode, each connection and comment meant to further his goals. And it was a sight to behold—he had a way with people when they were in his presence, as if there was an aura around him that couldn’t simply be replicated. They seemed magnetically drawn to him, unable to break away, and I was struck by how easily he seemed to create that, how far away it was from the boy he’d told me about that afternoon. He asked about this person’s child, that person’s vacation, and another’s sick mother—all things I was surprised he remembered, given the number of facts I guessed his brain juggled at any given moment. It had to take some serious mental gymnastics to keep it all straight.
When we reached the edge of the crowd, he turned to me.
“Did you have dinner?”
“I found a few snacks in the pool house kitchen. Goldfish crackers, some sparkling water.”
“That’s not nearly enough.”
“I’m not hungry.” And I wasn’t, thanks to the nerves sloshing around in my stomach and my heightened awareness of every inch of him.
Landon motioned to the long buffet near the veranda. “Plenty over there. I don’t want you to miss out.”
“Oh.” I stepped closer to him. My next words surprised me. Maybe it was the champagne on a nearly empty stomach, fusing with the frayed stress in my gut. Maybe it was the fact I’d learned to embrace the oddity that had become my life after leaving theTimes. And maybe it was something else entirely, something that came from the unexpected connection I felt with him. But whatever it was, I tossed caution out the window and said in a lower voice, “I’m not going to miss out at all.”
He studied me for a breath that could have lasted an hour. “Rebecca, if you weren’t on the job, I might think you’re flirting with me.”
“What if I am?”
“Be careful,” he replied. “That’s a conflict of interest.”
“Maybe that’s good.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” Now the champagne was really kicking in, powering me and this conversation to a new place.I’m already on this railroad, I might as well see where the train goes.“Besides, who says I have to be objective, anyway?”
“You’re tossing that out?” Amusement danced in his eyes, and I wondered if I’d hit on something that pleased him.
“It’s my publication. I can do whatever I want.”
“And you want...what?”
“Guess.”
He angled his head and his gaze roamed over me, as if he wanted to memorize every part of my body. “I didn’t invite you here to sway you. At least, not like this.”
