With a sense of morbid curiosity—what the hell did it matter, anyway?—I flipped open the magazine.
Number two. I was damned number two. Much smaller picture. Much smaller spread. Much less press for Flash than Lazer's company got. It was better than a swift kick in the butt, but not by much.
Lazer's net worth had inched above mine with the latest acquisition he'd made. As I skimmed the article, it became apparent that little bit of cash had thrown the competition in his favor. That was the only thing he had over me. That and the way he'd flirted with the female interviewer. Which was also obvious from the fawning coverage. Crap, they'd sent a guy to interview me.
I grabbed my phone and texted my favorite florist with instructions to send Lazer a nice, girly bouquet of flowers. A spray of fifty pink roses wrapped in paper and tied with a white satin ribbon should do it. I dictated a note. Congratulations on your pageant win.
No one could say I was a sore loser.
I was gunning for Lazer. Next year.
I didn't plan to marry any time soon. I liked women. Loved them. I just wasn't high on the institution of marriage. Look what it had done for Mom.
Anyway, I hadn't found a woman I was willing to commit to, risk my heart for, and share my billions with. Most of the time I was too damn busy running Flash to have time for anything else.
Justin accused me of being cynical. Maybe I was. I certainly didn't deny it. My experiences with love had led to heartbreak, not happiness.
Maybe I hadn't ever found real love, whatever the hell that was. It didn't matter. There wasn't anything lacking in my life. Flash was my passion, my mistress, my love. She was a demanding little obsession at that.
Jennifer, my highly efficient office assistant, poked her head in the door. "Entertaining reading?"
I scowled for comic effect and held the magazine up. "Have you seen this piece of shit?"
"Would you like me to call the editor and complain?" The edges of her lips twitched.
"You're enjoying this too much." I slapped the magazine onto the desk and grinned to show her I was a good sport.
"Not at all, boss. You are the hottest bachelor in my book. Definitely the hottest boss." She laughed. "Especially when it comes to raise time. Just remember that!"
I rolled my eyes and laughed. "I'm not that obviously vain, am I?"
If I could find a single woman as organized, loyal, good-humored, and tolerant as Jennifer, I might be tempted to marry. But like all the good ones, Jennifer was taken.
"Put your fake scowl away." She stepped in, closed the door, and lowered her voice confidentially. "There's a British gentleman here to see you. And by gentleman, I mean gentleman.
"Says he's a solicitor and he has an important family matter to discuss with you." She stepped forward and handed me his card.
Colin Thorne, Senior Partner
Baily, Cragwell, and Thorne Solicitors
London
Shit. What had my black sheep British cousins done now?
* * *
Pick up your copy of The Billionaire Duke today!
About the Author
Gina Robinson's books have delighted readers and received positive reviews in Publishers Weekly, Booklist, and Romantic Times Book Reviews.
A voracious reader and fan of all types of romantic stories, she writes romance and women's fiction across a wide variety of subgenres—new adult, contemporary, historical, and romantic suspense. Her love stories are infused with a happy blend of romance, adventure, a bit of mystery, and humor. Readers are drawn to the light touch she gives even serious topics and the fast, fun, easy-to-read pace of her books. From college campuses to Seattle to Las Vegas to England, her settings become almost characters of their own, driving the story.
She believes in the power of true love and passion, and that every great romance should have a happily-ever-after. To get an email when Gina releases a new book, sign up to join her VIP list by visiting her website at www.ginarobinson.com
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Pink Slipper Page 24