Page 65 of The Rebel Billionaire

“Perfect,” I say, reaching into my bag.

“Nope, it’s all paid for. Mr Bianchi has an account with us.”

“Great. Thank you, Bryan. Have a good weekend.”

I scoop up the suit before making my way back into the main foyer.

Heat floods my body as I scan the hundreds of faces milling around. I clutch Alex’s suit tightly to my chest.

Oh crap.

He’s not going to be happy if I return it creased.

Making my way to the revolving doors, I step out into the sunshine. A cab pulls up to the kerb, its current passengers disembarking. I dart forward, grabbing the door.

“St Clair HQ,” I say, sinking into the back seat and pulling the door closed.

“That’s only a block away,” the cabbie complains.

“I’ll pay you triple the fare,” I say quickly. “And a tip if you can drop me outside the door.”

He turns in his seat and looks at me like I’ve lost my mind, and maybe I have, but then again, being on a potential kidnap list will do that to even the strongest of people.

“It’s your money,” he says, pulling out into the traffic.

I sit back and wait as we circle the block, letting out a deep sigh as we pull up twenty paces from the front entrance.

What on earth was I thinking?

Being at St Clair has made me sloppy. The possibility of being caught on camera… it doesn’t even bear thinking about. Elijah may have deleted all my old social media and influencer accounts, but there are enough photos of me out there to cross-reference. I’ve not exactly led a solitary life, having been raised in the public eye, despite my parents’ best efforts.

“Here you go,” he says.

I hand over the money as promised. He shakes his head but doesn’t refuse it.

“Have a lovely day,” I say, scooting over the seat and getting out.

“You too,” he says as I shut the door.

Twenty steps. My eyes scan the area for imminent danger, although what I’m looking for is anyone’s guess.

The cab pulls away, shocking me into motion, my breath whooshing out as I reach the building.

“Welcome back, Ms Feldmann,” the doorman says.

I shoot him a nervous smile. “Thanks, Pete, just collecting Mr Bianchi’s dry cleaning,” I say unnecessarily.

“Well, you have a nice day.”

“You too.”

My pulse only returns to normal once I’m back within the confines of the building and making my way to the elevator. I slump against the wall after using my access card to travel up to our floor.

My desk phone is ringing when I get there.

Shit, I forgot to divert the line.

I hang Alex’s suit on the coat rack before grabbing it.