Page 150 of The Rebel Billionaire

I close my eyes, inhaling deeply before answering. After today’s fuck-up, I deserve to be reprimanded.

“Alex,” I say. “About earlier, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened. I promised I’d be okay, but then…”

“Brooke, stop. It’s okay. No damage was done. And it’s as much my fault as yours. I should have realised.”

The rich warmth of his voice settles my frayed nerves.

“I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted. How’re you doing?”

“I’m…”

“Please don’t say fine. You’re not fine.”

“No, I’m not. You’re right, but it’s nothing a good night’s sleep won’t fix, as I told Sophia when she popped in to check on me.”

“My mother came to see you?”

“She did.”

“Sorry. She was adamant that I don’t make mistakes,” he says, letting out a huff.

“And she’d be right. You don’t. You didn’t. I did,” I say, sitting back on the sofa and pulling my knees up, wanting to know why.

“I’m the boss. The buck stops here.”

Of course it does. Why else would he have done it? He blames himself for not sending me home.

“Well, thank you. It won’t happen again.”

“Get some rest over the weekend. Next week is going to be crazy. We may be in New York, but there will be a lot going on. I need you on top of your game to help keep me afloat. Can you do that?”

I smile, even though he can’t see me. “Aye, aye, Captain. And Alex, thank you again for being understanding.”

“We all have things, Brooke. Sometimes they bubble over when we least expect it. I know something has happened, but I’m not going to pry. However, if you need someone to talk to, I’m here.”

“I appreciate it, but it’s nothing an early night can’t fix,” I lie, wanting nothing more than to tell him everything.

But my lies are getting more convoluted, and in my current state of mind, I’m going to struggle to keep up the pretence.

“Have a good weekend. See you on Monday.”

“You too, Alex.”

CHAPTER 45

ALEX

New York Fashion Week is a crazy but invigorating time. A week hosting VICs, securing major retail orders, scouting new creative directors, and managing corporate public relations before doing it all again in London, Milan, and Paris. It requires me to use and adapt every skill I’ve ever learned, times a thousand.

Brooke is back on her game, holding down the fort in the office, which has turned out to be a blessing, while Daphne, Teresa’s PA, has stepped up to meet and greet our clients and the press corps. There’s been no further mention of Friday’s slip-up. Mother mentioned that Brooke had had a migraine and looked tired, and that I shouldn’t overwork her. I didn’t mention that Brooke has taken to leaving on time every Tuesday and Thursday, especially after Mother had the audacity to visit her at home. They have some weird relationship, one I cannot fathom. My mother has never been the maternal type, more of a career woman, so her interest in Brooke confuses me.

We say goodbye to the last guests before I head back upstairs, Mother in tow.

“Congratulations again, Sandro. Your speech announcing the company’s new initiatives went well, not to mention the show itself was a huge success.”

“Thank you. I’m pleased with where we’re heading. Tomasso and our other suppliers are very much on board too.”