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That’s it!
He wants to appear like a good guy to me so I’ll betray Henry.
What a scheming, manipulative…
This is why I don’t trust billionaires unless they’re married to my friends.
I read about Richard Sullivan II last night. His family’s famous in the tech space. There were tons of articles about his father’s contribution to major Silicone Valley All-Stars.
After his father died, Richard Sullivan became the king of the empire. Rather than taking his family’s money and playing around for the rest of his life—which he totally could have done—he quadrupled their net worth, sending them into the official ‘billionaire’ category.
One journalist called him ‘Midas Sullivan’ because of his knack for finding cash cows in their infancy. I’m sure a genius investor like Richard Sullivan knows how to wine and dine his clients before breaking them completely.
Not gonna happen with me.
I sit in determined silence, arms folded over my chest. When the limo finally stops in front of a famous hiking spot, I climb out and adjust my pink blazer.
The sun glints against a high mountain.
“Up there?” I sign, arching an eyebrow at Jenny.
She nods.
My heart trips over itself, but my determination doesn’t wane. Okay. So my nude kitty heels with the transparent straps were not the best choice for mountain-climbing.
So what?
I once did a charity show wearing twelve-inch astronaut heels. In therain.
I head for the entrance to the hiking trail, but Jenny waves me down. She points to a tram that’s waiting around the side of the hill. Heat blazes in my cheeks and I duck my head, scrambling over to her.
As I mount the tram, I notice the velvet ropes partitioning the ride from the rest of the general public.
Did Richard Sullivan…rent out the mountain?
Nerves bubble in my stomach.
I’ve been around billionaires. Plenty of them. All the ones I know don’t flaunt their wealth. They don’t act any differently than regular people, except for their extravagant vacations, catered parties, expensive clothes, giant houses, chauffeurs, live-in housekeepers, cooks, and nannies.
Fine.
So they do live differently.
But they don’t… do…this.
I squirm as I notice the crowd of hikers who have all stopped to watch me and Jenny board a giant tram. Some shoot us hateful looks.
Of course they do.
We’re two people taking a ride that could seat at least sixteen.
As the machine inches up the mountain, I fish out my phone and research Richard Sullivan again.
The first image Google presents is a close-up of a man with salt-and-pepper hair and lots of freckles.
Must be Richard Sullivan I.
I scroll down until I find images of Richard Sullivan II.
