Page 11 of Bulletproof

I had to laugh.

His scowl deepened. “So, what are you gonna do?” he asked me, his voice pained.

“Not me. Like I told you, the interior design team. That’s a whole separate entity.”

He looked up at me, and I wasn’t sure what I saw there.

“Mr. Fisher, I swear to God you don’t have to see me again until your big night.”

“Mr. Harcourt, you⁠—”

“Okay,” I announced, “well, I gotta go because I’m starving, but another team will be in touch to go over timelines with you and invitations and the list of who you want and who you don’t.” I offered him my hand.

He looked dazed, but he took my hand, and we shook. I moved away from him, walking over to Michelle.

“I remember now,” she said, grinning at me. “You maul people into submission.”

“That’s right.” I winked at her, grabbing her hand and tugging her after me.

“Jory,” she said, laughing, “I have to say goodbye to the man.”

“Fine,” I grumbled, letting her go. “I’ll meet you at the restaurant. I’ll go get a table.”

“Wait.”

“What?”

“I don’t know where I’m going.”

I squinted at her. “We’re getting French toast, of course.”

“How was I supposed to know that? And please tell me where we’re going.”

I was used to traveling with Dylan. My best friend never missed a beat of what was going on in my head. I had to stop expecting it of others.

I gave Michelle the name of the place and told her where it was.

“Okay,” she said, smiling at me, the adoration there in her eyes.

She liked me—she couldn’t help it. I drove her nuts, but still … she was fond of me.

“I’ll meet you there.”

“Are you bringin’ the whole team?”

“No, doll, it’s just you and me.”

“Good,” I said, even though I liked the rest of the team. I just wasn’t up to making conversation with the whole group.

Halfway to the door, I turned around. “Everything’s gonna be all right, Mr. Fisher,” I assured him. “Michelle will plan the gala with you, Wade Fujihara will be here on Monday morning to go over the plans for renovating your space, and then someone else will be by with photos of the women interested in becoming your missus.”

He just stared at me, mouth open.

“Maybe if you play your cards right, then you can get your date to stay over the night of the party ’cause you really look like you need to get⁠—”

“Jory!”

“What?”