Page 85 of How to Train Your Billionaire

Not this again.

Hayes:Can’t. Work.

Mom:7 PM. Don’t be late.

The woman doesn’t take no for an answer. Never has.

Two hours later, I’m sitting in Le Bernardin across from Victoria Ashworth-Sterling, who’s everything my mother thinks I need. Blond. Beautiful. Trust fund. Harvard MBA.

She’s been talking for twenty minutes straight about her charity work, and I haven’t heard a single word.

“The thing about philanthropy,” she’s saying, cutting her fish into perfect little squares, “is that you have to maintain proper boundaries. You can’t get too emotionally invested.”

My brain stutters. “What?”

“Emotional distance. It’s crucial when you’re trying to help people. Otherwise you lose objectivity.”

I think about Frankie feeding Charles liverwurst at 6:00 a.m. because it made him happy. The way she’d sit with him duringJeopardy!, genuinely delighted when he got the answers right.

“Right,” I manage. “Boundaries.”

Victoria smiles. “Exactly. That’s why I prefer board positions to hands-on work. More efficient.”

More efficient.

My phone buzzes. Malachi.

Malachi:How’s the setup dinner going? Mom find you a wife yet?

I excuse myself to the bathroom and call him back.

“That bad?” he answers on the first ring.

“She just said helping people requires emotional distance.”

“Yikes.”

“I keep thinking about—” I stop myself.

“About Frankie?”

Her name hits me like a physical blow. “Don’t.”

“Dude, you’ve been miserable for two weeks. Maybe it’s time to—”

“Time to what?” Fly back to France and beg? “She’s better off without me.”

I lean against the sink, staring at my reflection in the mirror. I look like hell. Dark circles under my eyes. Stubble because I can’t be bothered to shave properly.

“That’s not your call to make.”

When I get back to the table, Victoria’s ordering dessert for both of us. “I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty. The chocolate soufflé here is divine.”

I hate chocolate soufflé. Have since I was a kid.

But I smile and nod, because that’s what I do. Smile and nod and pretend everything’s fine while my chest feels like someone’s sitting on it.

“So,” Victoria continues, “any plans this weekend? It might be nice to get away to the Hamptons for the holiday.”