Page 15 of How to Train Your Billionaire

At best he’s a spoiled rich boy without a care or real problem to be found. At worst he’s an egomaniac who takes pride in pointing out how he’s better than everyone else.I don’t eat processed meat.

He can stick his meat where the sun don’t shine.

I snicker to myself.

Chapter Six

Keep Your Enemies Close

Hayes

After completing my MBA, I dove right in, and now I oversee a team that does portfolio management, estate planning, philanthropy, and tax strategy. I get very little time off—which, I’ll be the first to admit, is by choice—andthisis how I’m choosing to spend it? I need to get my head checked.

I darted off for Big Sky, needing to check on my uncle—to oversee this ill-fated trip—to make sure that Francesca wasn’t going to fleece the old man for everything he had. I had no way of knowing if she was a gold digger or a con artist or what. Something was off about her, that was for sure.

Plus my uncle Charles is one of the good guys. He’s kind and thoughtful and doesn’t have a vindictive bone in his body, unlike most members of my family. I can’t help it if I feel protective over him. Plus, I don’t know Francescaat all. Other than the googling I did. Someone needs to look out for my uncle. He’s a literal billionaire at the final stage of his life. I’m not ignorant as to what could happen. There are news specials on this kind of thing.

I round the corner and find them in the dining room just as the sun is setting. Take-out containers are spread out before them, and Francesca is smiling. Her mouth is too big—she has one of those smiles that just refuses to fade—and she seems to always be smiling. It irritates me. What is there to be so happy about?

“Okay, so I ordered takeout from a German restaurant,” she says to Charles. “Liverwurst and onions.”

My uncle’s eyes light up with excitement. Weird, but whatever. Not here to judge.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you’d be eating with us,” she says to me. I can tell she’s lying. She washopingI wouldn’t be eating with them. And by not ordering me any food, she was ensuring I wouldn’t be.

“It’s fine. I made plans with a friend in town.” I press one hand to my uncle’s shoulder. “I’ll be home late.”

Charles nods once. “No problem. We were going to watch a chick flick tonight.”

The hell?I do a double take, my eyes widening.

“A rom-com. Right, Charlie?” Francesca says with a wink.

I pause with the water glass halfway to my lips. My uncle Charles has never beenCharlie. Not ever. He is Charles or maybe Chuck to those who are closest to him. He’s known Francesca, what? All of a week.

“Can I have a word with you, Francesca?” I grit out through a clenched jaw.

“Sure,” she says begrudgingly.

I head off toward the kitchen with her trailing a few paces behind.

I steady one hand on the island and face her. “I have no idea what it is you’re up to, but my uncle is a very sweet and trusting old man.”

Her pretty face scrunches up. “What are you implying?”

Tension coils in my shoulders, and I release a slow, uneasy exhale. “I’m not implying anything, I’m just saying that ...”Shit, whatamI trying to say?

Francesca, seeming to summon every ounce of civility she can find, tosses me an olive branch. “Just to be clear ... I really like your uncle, andI wasn’t sure about this job at first, but I really think it could be exactly what I need. So can you do one thing and not mess this up for me?”

I hold up both hands. “I’m not going to mess anything up for you. But I do intend to check in on him from time to time.”

She takes this information in and nods once. “Fine. I know you don’t think very highly of me, but you never know, I might just surprise you.” Turning, she glances back at me once before continuing back to the dining room. “If we’re done here, my liverwurst is getting cold, and I highly doubt that’s going to make it any more palatable.”

I chuckle and follow her back to the dining room, mostly because I want to see how exactly this is going to play out.

Plating the grayish sausage, Francesca looks uneasy. “This is your uncle’s favorite guilty pleasure,” she says, like this is common knowledge.

“It is?” I eye the pungent and slightly metallic-smelling meat.