“Both of them are on full scholarships.” Cher bragged about those boys as if they were her own. I loved it.
“And thank Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” I said, “considering the price of tuition at these American schools.”
“She’s lived here half her life, and she still converts everything to Canadian dollars,” Cher laughed.
“Hey, it makes me happy when I think about how much our contracts are bringing in.”
Cher and I raised a glass to Sarah, who was responsible for the biggest of those contracts. Then Cher gave a rapid-fire update of what else had happened at the Rolling Hills today in my absence. Sarah asked about Tasha, and it was Cher’s turn to brag, pulling up a picture of her daughter, face covered in chocolate.
After we laughed about that, both women sighed. Then their eyes landed on me.
Though my two friends couldn’t look more different—Sarah with her pale, freckled skin, compact figure,and hazel eyes, and Cher with her smooth brown skin, Amazonian height, and thick dark lashes—but both had the same expression in their eyes.
ATell me everythinglook.
My stomach roiled. Cher had spilled everything I told her to Sarah, of course. Which was my fault. I acted like the job in the Hills had been no big deal.
“No,” I said. I didn’t want to talk about it. I’djustspent the past hour not thinking about it—a first for this week.
Cher rolled her eyes. “Really? Nothing aboutMitchell Harrington, Blake Harrington’s brother?”
Sarah grimaced. “Cher. No one’s supposed to know he’s here. Or who he is. Or something.”
“TheMitchell Harrington?” Cher continued, leaning in.
My heart raced. What was she on about? I really should have shut this line of conversation down. But Cher knew something. She was dangling it in front of me, and like a sucker, I was biting.
“What do you mean, ‘The’? He’s a rich asshole. End of story.”
“Winona. I know you barely have the internet at home,” Cher said.
I rolled my eyes. I did, actually. I’d been using it a lot lately for my business applications.
“But you do have this.” She tapped my phone on the table with a fingernail.
Sarah leaned in. “Winona, are you seriously telling me you didn’t look him up? Weren’t you a little curious?”
I was, of course. But I didn’t want to spend a single second more time thinking about him than I already had. “Why would I?” I asked, hoping I sounded aloof despite my rapidly increasing heartbeat.
“Because,” Cher said. “He’s not just some ‘rich asshole’.”
I frowned.
Despite her reservations, Sarah seemed unable to resist joining in. “He’s one of the country’s biggest philanthropists, Winona.”
“What she means,” Cher said, “Is he’s a billionaire.”
I tried not to choke on my beer. “What?”
“An extremely well-known one. You might even call him famous.”
Sarah slanted a glance at Cher. “In some circles.”
Cher laced her fingers together. “Lots of circles. But listen, that’s not the most important part. He’s also—hmm, how would you describe him, Sarah? I mean physically.”
Sarah sighed. “Gorgeous.”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed. Relief had my heart rate slowing down. They were mistaken, clearly. The man I met was a beast. An ogre. Albeit with striking eyes. And, okay, yes, a certain kind of body.
