Page 20 of The Rebel Billionaire

“Probably best done without a hangover,” Leo says. “Enjoy, and remember, they’re only human,” he adds, making me grimace.

“I’m not that bad,” I say, causing my best friends to slap the table and laugh.

“Keep telling yourself that when you’re growling at them on Monday morning,” Dante says.

“I’m not sure why I expected any sympathy from you.”

“Oh, you have our sympathy,” Orlando says, chuckling. “Actually, scrub that. The poor individuals you’ll be interviewing have it. Want to meet for drinks on Monday evening? Drown your sorrows?”

“He may need it,” Dante says. “Keep your calendars free, gents.”

I roll my eyes.

“Good luck,” they chime after me. “Don’t work too late.”

I throw a hand in the air in acknowledgement, their laughter following me to the door.

Maybe they’re right. Am I looking at this all wrong? Do I need to lower my expectations? Maybe it’s about finding the right fit. Can Callie help me with that?

I hail a cab, wanting to get home as quickly as possible. Settling into the backseat, I pull up one of the CVs from Callie’s list. I groan almost immediately, knowing Monday is going to be a nightmare.

ME:

Can you interview the candidates first? See who you feel has potential?

CALLIE:

Thought you’d never ask.

Stop worrying, we’ve got this. By the time I’ve handed over, you won’t even know I’ve gone.

Somehow, I find that almost impossible to believe.

CHAPTER 7

HARPER

Sophia is in the back of the car when I exit my apartment building. Benjamin stands waiting beside the door.

“Good afternoon, Benjamin,” I say.

“Afternoon, Ms Feldmann,” he says, waiting for me to take a seat before shutting me inside.

“Afternoon, Sophia,” I say, taking in her immaculate hair, make-up, and clothing.

She gives me the once-over and smiles.

“How was your weekend?” she asks.

“It was fine,” I say, not wanting to tell her it was lonely, that I stayed in the whole time, too scared to venture out in case someone recognised me. “I organised my belongings.”

A task that took me all of five minutes.

She smiles and nods.

What she doesn’t realise is that I wasn’t able to bring any personal belongings. No family photographs or mementoes. Nothing that could connect me to Harper Frazer.

So, I spent the weekend alone, in a tiny apartment, with far too much time inside my own head, which is never a good thing.