Page 22 of Billionaire’s Game

“Hey, you’re early,” he said in greeting.

“I’m on time.”

“That’s my idea of early.”

He started walking toward a path and extended his elbow to me. In his other hand, he held a bag. I assumed it was croissants or something similar for us to eat while people watching and getting to know each other. With a second of hesitation, I hooked my elbow in the crook of his own. I thought it was old-fashioned, but for some reason, I found it charming. And I had to admit, I liked touching him, more than I imagined I would, no matter how innocent the touch was.

To keep myself from thinking about his body being near mine, I kept my eyes on the path and started talking. “Funny. I would have thought you would be the “if you’re not early, you’re late” type of person.”

“You mean a stick in the mud?”

“Well... kind of...”

“I’m not sure what gave you that impression.”

“I don’t know. You just seem the type to plan everything.”

“I’m not like that at all.”

“Really?”

“Really. In fact, my personal assistant does all my planning so that I don’t have to.”

I chuckled. “Figures.”

He laughed and I realized he’d been teasing me. “Actually, I don’t have a personal assistant. I’m too controlling to let someone else handle my personal affairs.”

“Ha. I knew it,” I said with too much enthusiasm. I loved to be right.

“No, you were wrong. I’m a bit controlling, but I’m not inflexible. I don’t mind the occasional surprise… And I think I’m pretty open to change.”

“As long as you’re controlling it, right?”

He gave a guilty shrug. “I won’t dignify that question with a response.”

I gave a self-assured nod. “Which means I’m right.”

“So let me guess,” he said, studying me. “You’re the type of person who has to be right all the time?”

“What? No.” I scoffed. I was lying of course. As a child, I’d had trouble making friends because I had been a bit of a know-it-all. I think I’d improved since then, but probably not by much.

“I believe you. But not really.”

“Hey!”

“Let’s just both agree to be flawed individuals and call it even. How does that sound?”

“Sounds like something I can agree to...”

“Good. Grab some bread.”

I had guessed correctly, I thought smugly, as I reached into the bag. I took out a bread roll and promptly took a bite. It was a bit hard and dry, but whatever, I never turned down free food.

“Don’t order me around,” I said testily as I chewed on the bread.

“It wasn’t an order. It was an offer.”

“An offer?”