My Fair Billionaire. Elizabeth Bevarly

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СКАЧАТЬ that’s making you feel like...how did you put it? A bully and a jerk.”

      “Anyway,” he said, ignoring the analysis, “for the sake of good PR and potential future projects, my board of directors thought it would be better to not go after the Montgomery sisters the way I usually go after a company—by yanking it out from under its unsuspecting owners. They think I should try to—” he made a restless gesture “—to...finesse it out from under them with my charm and geniality.”

      Somehow, the words finesse and Peyton Moss just didn’t fit, never mind the charm and geniality stuff. Ava did manage to keep her mouth shut this time. But he seemed to need to talk about what had brought him back here, and for some reason, she hesitated to stop him.

      “The BoD think it will be easier to fend off lawsuits and union problems if I can charm the company away from the Montgomerys instead of grabbing it from them. So they sent me back here to, and I quote, ‘exorcise your street demons, Peyton, and learn to be a gentleman.’ They’ve even set me up with some Henry Higgins type who’s supposed to whip me into shape. Then, when I’m all nice and polished, they’ll let me come back to San Francisco and go after Montgomery and Sons. But nicely,” he added wryly. “That way, my tarnished reputation will stay only tarnished and not firebombed into oblivion.”

      Now he looked at Ava as if he were actually awaiting a reply. Not that she had one to give him. Although she was finally beginning to understand what had brought him back to Chicago—kind of—she wasn’t sure what he expected her to say. Certainly Peyton Moss hadn’t been bred to be a gentleman. That didn’t mean he wasn’t capable of becoming one. Eventually. Under the right tutelage. Which even Ava was having a hard time trying to imagine.

      When she said nothing, he added quietly, “But you wanna hear the real kicker?”

      She did, actually—more than she probably should admit.

      “The real kicker is that they think I should pick up a wife while I’m here. They’ve even set me up with one of those millionaire matchmakers who’s supposed to introduce me to—” he took a deep breath and released it slowly, as if he were about to reveal something of great importance “—the right kind of woman.”

      Ava’s first reaction was an odd sort of relief that he wasn’t already in a committed relationship. Her second reaction was an even odder disappointment that that was about to change. There was just something about the thought of Peyton being introduced to the “right kind of woman”—meaning, presumably, the kind of woman she herself was supposed to have grown up to be—that did something funny to her insides.

      He added, “They think the Montgomery sisters might look more favorably at their family business being appropriated by another family than they would having it go to a coldhearted single guy like me.” He smiled grimly. “So to finally answer your question, Ava, I’m back in Chicago to erase all evidence of my embarrassing, low-life past and learn to be a gentleman in polite society. And I’m supposed to find a nice society girl who will give me an added aura of respectability.”

      Ava couldn’t quite keep the flatness from her voice when she replied, “Well, then. I hope you, in that society, with that nice society girl, will be very happy.”

      “Aw, whatsamatter, Ava?” he asked in the same cool tone. “Can’t stand the fact that you and I are now social and financial equals?”

      “Peyton, that’s not—”

      “Yeah, there goes the neighborhood.”

      “Peyton, I didn’t mean—”

      “Once you start letting in the riffraff, the whole place goes to hell, doesn’t it?”

      Ava stopped trying to explain or apologize, since he clearly wasn’t going to let her do either. What was funny—or would have been, had it not been so biting—was that they actually weren’t social and financial equals. Ava was so far below him on both ladders, she wouldn’t even be hit by the loose change spilling out of his pockets.

      “So what about you?” he asked.

      The change of subject jarred her. “What about me?”

      “What are you doing now? I remember you wanted to go to Wellesley. You were going to major in art or something.”

      She couldn’t believe he remembered her top college choice. She’d almost forgotten it herself. She hadn’t allowed herself to think about things like that once the family fortune evaporated. Although Ava had been smart, she’d been a lazy student. Why worry about grades when she had parents with enough money and connections to ensure admission into any school she wanted? The only reason she’d been accepted at her tony private school in Milwaukee was that she’d tested so high on its entry exam.

      How was she supposed to tell Peyton she’d ended up studying business at a community college? Not that she hadn’t received a fine education, but it was a far cry from the hallowed halls of academia for which she’d originally aimed.

      “English,” she said evasively. “I wanted to major in English.”

      He nodded. “Right. So where’d you end up going?”

      “Wisconsin,” she said, being deliberately vague. Let him think she was talking about the university, not the state.

      He arched his brows in surprise. “University of Wisconsin? Interesting choice.”

      “The University of Wisconsin has an excellent English department,” she said. Which was true. She just hadn’t been a part of it herself. Nor had she lied to Peyton, she assured herself. She never said she went to University of Wisconsin. He’d just assumed, the same way he’d made lots of other assumptions about her. Why correct him? He’d be out of her life in a matter of minutes.

      “And now you own a clothing store,” he said. “Good to see you putting that English degree to good use. Then again, it’s not like you actually work there, is it? Now that I think about it, I guess English is a good major for an heiress. Seeing as you don’t have to earn a living like the rest of us working stiffs.”

      Ava bit her tongue instead of defending herself. She still had a tiny spark of pride that prohibited her from telling him the truth about her situation. Okay, there was that, and also the fear that he would gloat relentlessly once he found out how she’d gone from riches to rags.

      “Have you finished your coffee?” she asked. It was the most polite way she knew how to say beat it.

      He looked down into his mug. “Yeah. I’m finished.”

      But he made no move to leave. Ava studied him again, considering everything she had learned. He’d achieved all his success in barely a decade’s time. She’d been out of school almost as long as he, but she was still struggling to make ends meet. And she would consider herself ambitious. Yet he’d gone so much further in the same length of time. That went beyond ambitious. That was...

      Well, that was Peyton.

      Still, she never would have guessed his stratospheric status had he not told her. When she’d removed his jacket and shoes last night, she had noted their manufacturers—it was inescapable in her line of work. Both could have been purchased in any department store. His hair was shorter than it had been in high school, but he didn’t look as if he’d paid a fortune for the cut, the way most men in his position would. He might be worth almost a billion dollars СКАЧАТЬ