Page 90 of The Rebel Billionaire

I stand up and turn to the woman who’s joined us. She is stunning, her Italian heritage shining through in her dark eyes, dark brown hair and beautiful olive complexion.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Gabriella,” I say.

“Gabbi, please. Otherwise, I’ll think I’m in trouble. Only our mother and father call me Gabriella.”

I smile, surprised at her warmth.

“I hope you don’t mind me joining you both,” she says.

“No, it’s me who’s intruding,” I say.

Both siblings shake their heads. “I want to meet the woman who has my big brother toeing the line. There are not many who manage it.”

She looks at me like she’s trying to get a read on me.

“Tell me about yourself,” she says, and I notice the pattern between siblings.

Both are a force of nature. Black is black and white is definitely white. Something I’ve learned to value over the years.

The maitre d’ takes our order, while I answer all Gabbi’s questions. I stick to the script, which, luckily, isn’t a million miles from my real life. Only Brooke Feldmann is a mid-range student, and she certainly doesn’t have a trust fund or come from a long line of billionaires. The more I talk, the more I hate myself and the endless lies I’m spouting.

Gabbi orders another bottle of wine, and I make a mental note of the label for Caleb’s best friend, Tristan. He’s always looking out for new vineyards to approach.

“And now you work for my brother, you poor thing.”

“It’s been good, interesting… I’m learning a lot.”

“Well, just because he’s a workaholic, don’t let him turn you into one. Life is about balance,” Gabbi says, shooting her brother a look that I’m sure holds more meaning than the words she’s just spoken.

After our main course, Gabbi’s phone beeps.

“That’ll be my ride,” she says, standing up. “You got this?” She looks at her brother, who waves her off when she reaches for her purse. She drops a kiss on his cheek. “Remember what I said.”

“Don’t worry, you spent much of this afternoon drumming it into me,” he says cryptically.

Gabbi turns to me. “It’s been lovely meeting you. It seems like I’ve known you for years. Maybe we can meet up and go out for a drink next time I’m in New York.”

I smile at her warmth, finding myself more relaxed than I have been in months.

“I’d like that,” I tell her truthfully, hoping that, by the time it happens, I’ll be free from the threats that hang over me.

She leans over and pulls me into a hug. “Safe travels home tomorrow.”

Her phone beeps again. “I’d better go.”

“Lovely meeting you.”

She dashes out of the restaurant and into the car that is waiting outside on the cobbled street.

Alex watches her go.

“You must miss her,” I say before I can stop myself, drawing his attention back to me.

He gives a little sigh. “I do, but everyone has their own path to follow. She’ll return when she’s ready.” There’s a pause. “But how about you? You spoke a lot tonight about your own family. You must miss them?” he says.

I pick up my glass of wine and stare into the ruby liquid.

“More than you can imagine,” I say before I can stop myself, the alcohol loosening my tongue.