Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 53233 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 266(@200wpm)___ 213(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53233 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 266(@200wpm)___ 213(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
“You know how Twitter is,” I say dismissively.
“Yeah.” He takes a long drink of his beer. “She’s hot, though, from the pictures I saw. You should at least get some action out of the whole thing.”
I ignore his comment, because that’s actually the last thing I want. I hit my stride with my first business when I was twenty-four, and every woman I’ve been with since has been attracted to my money. They don’t have to say it for me to know. Renee spent money like it was her job when we were together. She wanted it all—vacation homes in exotic places, a yacht, and of course, chefs, housekeepers and other staff at her disposal no matter which property she was staying at.
I’m intrigued by Daphne for many reasons, and her disdain for my money is actually one of them. But even though she’s not after my money, I don’t want her to give me a chance just because I saved her life.
I want Daphne to see who I am, not what I did or how much I have. How do I accomplish that, though? I’ve racked my brain trying to decide where to take her for dinner tomorrow night. Hassan made reservations at five places and I’m going to cancel four of them when I make up my mind.
The place needs to be nice, but not too fancy. Romantic, but not obviously so. Low-key, but still private.
I considered taking her to Madeleine, the restaurant attached to the homeless shelter I funded. Reese Deveraux runs it, and the chefs who work there train homeless people for careers in the food industry.
If Daphne doesn’t already know I’m affiliated with Madeleine, though, I don’t want to call myself out. I’ll never know if she likes me for who I am if I’m trying to impress her with what I do. So our first dinner will just be the two of us talking over a good meal…but not too good.
My gaze is trained on the ice, but my mind is on Daphne. I’m pretty sure I’ll know the moment I lay eyes on her if she’s only going out with me so she can say she tried and there was no chemistry or if she actually likes me, too. Even a little. I just need something to build on.
She’s a strong woman who clearly doesn’t need a man. But she can want one. Preferably one in particular.
A St. Louis player scores a goal and I look away from the game. I can be competitive, and I want my team to win.
It’s what I do with my work, too—I try to win every day in ways big and small.
I buy companies that are on the verge of bankruptcy and make them run better, saving the jobs of the employees. I take eyesore buildings and breathe new life into them through renovation. I run the Blaze organization to be a team Chicago is proud of. A team with a fighting chance at the cup every year and happy coaches and players who get to do their jobs without me micromanaging.
I’m a lot more than a man sitting on top of a big pile of money. Tomorrow night, I have to make sure Daphne sees that.
Chapter Ten
Daphne
“It’s not a date,” I tell Julia as I shimmy out of a pair of jeans.
“You mentioned that about thirty times already.”
“It’s not.”
“Thirty-one.”
I glare at her. “Try to be helpful, will you? Pass me that black dress.”
My sister shakes her head. “You’re not wearing that.”
“Why not?”
“Because it covers every inch of you but your face and hands. Save it for the next funeral you attend.”
I groan with frustration. “What am I going to wear?”
She reaches into the suitcase she brought over to my apartment.
“My black leggings and booties, your purple cami and this gray cardigan I haven’t even worn yet. And some long silver earrings. Go take a shower and I’ll do your hair and makeup.”
“I’m hungry, let’s eat first.”
Julia looks at me like I just grew another head. “It’s 3:15, Daphne.”
“So what? I didn’t eat lunch because I was busy cleaning.”
“I’ll make you a little plate of cheese and crackers. I brought snacks.”
“You brought snacks?” I ask, amused.
“I’m a mom. I always bring snacks. You’re getting Goldfish and string cheese.”
I make a face. “I was thinking more like a giant sub sandwich from the deli down the street.”
“You can’t eat a big meal this close to your date. You won’t be hungry enough. Good guys like women who eat on dates.”
“Jules, if all I get is some Goldfish and string cheese, I’m going to start gnawing on my own arm by the time we sit down at the restaurant. You want me to be hangry?”
Her grin is confident. “You won’t be. I’m also allowing you one glass of wine to loosen you up. I can tell you’re nervous.”