Billion Dollar Mistake: An opposites attract billionaire romance: (The Lincolns Book 1)

Chapter 5

Jeremy: It’s only fair you tell me about you tonight. Google really has nothing about you.

I stare at his text, nibbling my bottom lip, and type back. This new friendship with Jeremy feels oddly easy. For someone of his status, to be so down-to-earth and funny is unexpected. He doesn’t seem snobby. And he doesn’t speak like he’s better than me, even though our lives couldn’t be more different.

He even starred in my dreams last night. We were lying in my bed watching Million Dollar Baby together. His arm draped over me as I snuggled into his strong body. It was a very nice dream––shame it had to end.

I’ve not dreamt of a man, in well…ever. So to wake to a message from him now after thinking of him all night sends a new thrill down my spine.

Nova: You Googled me?

Jeremy:I did.

Nova: I thought you didn’t like Google.

Jeremy:I didn’t say that. I meant I don’t Google myself.

Jeremy:Now you know all about me. Tell me something about you.

Nova: Only if you Google yourself.

Jeremy:What if I say I do and I don’t?

Nova: I believe in trust. Are you a liar?

Jeremy:No. I hate liars.

Nova: Then if you want to know something about me you need to Google yourself.

I sit back, pleased at myself.

Jeremy:I want something personal. Something you haven’t shared with others.

Nova: I’m not sending you nudes.

Jeremy:I didn’t ask for any but if…

Nova: Not happening.

I’m typing with the stupidest grin and the giddiest feeling. The back-and-forth texting is taking my mind off my usual thoughts. Thoughts of money and my dad.

Jeremy:I’m going to look now.

Nova: I change my mind. Put it on video.

Jeremy: You don’t trust me?

Nova: No, the opposite, I want to see your face as you read it.

Jeremy:Fine.

My phone rings in my hand. I accept the video call and my body rushes with heat. He is wearing a simple white T-shirt and black sweats. A stark contrast to the polished image of the powerful businessman in his pictures. The T-shirt clings to his shoulders and arms, accentuating the impressive size and strength of his muscles.

He’s different from the guy on Google. And even from the photo last night. Seeing him dressed down through video is a nice surprise. Don’t ask me to tell you which version of him I prefer, because I hate to admit that I’ve envisioned ripping his button-up shirt off.

But this laid-back version is a different level of hotness. I can’t stop staring. My tongue instinctively slides over my lips as I take him in, unable to tear my gaze away. A five-o”clock shadow dusting across a chiselled jaw, complementing dark blue eyes that hold a hint of mystery. His dark hair, which he runs his hands through, isn’t as perfectly styled as his Google pics. But it makes my hand twitch, imagining my hands running through his hair instead. It looks soft and yet a length I could easily curl my fingers through.

“Hi,” he says, pulling my mind out of the wandering thoughts it was having.

“Hi.” My hands start to feel clammy.

He walks me through his house. I take in his gray walls and gray carpet. Moody and sultry. Totally suits him.

“Where are you taking me? Am I getting a guided tour of your house?”

A deep low chuckle leaves his chest. “No. I’m walking to my office so I can show you my screen and what I’ve found on Google.”

“I know. I’m just asking to see your house,” I admit.

There”s a large painting of New York City on the wall, but it’s the photo on the console table underneath that draws my attention.

“It’s boring and unexciting, like me.”

I lean forward to catch a glimpse of the image. It looks to be an old family photo. Four boys, parents, and grandparents. His family. The boys look to be in their early 20s.

Smiling, I wonder which one is him.

“I doubt that. I like the gray…it suits you.”

His eyes hit the screen and cause me to shiver. “How? I didn’t design it. I paid a designer very well.”

“She must’ve known you really well,” I say, sounding a little jealous.

What is wrong with me? It’s just a designer. And he isn’t mine.

“I’ve never slept with her if that’s what you’re asking,” he answers my silent question.

“I didn’t.”

“I know people think I fuck everything that moves.”

I laugh. “Most men do.”

“I’m not most men.”

He sits down on his desk, and he hits a button on his screen and the vision of him is gone.

Damn it.

The clear-cut lines of his profile are hot. I watch him type his name.

“I did it.” He talks behind the camera. I can see his computer screen. It’s showing me what I already know.

“Read it,” I say.

He grumbles, but I can tell he starts reading it by the way he slowly scrolls the screen up.

“I didn’t break up with her, she broke up with me,” he argues at the screen.

“Why did she break up with you?” I ask softly. I was curious about that information when I read it last night.

“Nova. You’ve got enough dirt on me.”

“Ohhh, is it juicy?” I ask excitedly.

“No. Me working too much isn’t juicy. It’s pathetic.”

Just as the words leave his mouth he curses, “Shit.”

“You didn’t mean to share that did you?”

A heavy sigh escapes him. “No but apparently that happens a lot when I’m around you.”

I laugh, enjoying this gentle side of him.

He must have hit the button to spin the camera again because his handsome face fills the screen. His dark brows pinch together, but the determined look in his eyes has my lip falling from my teeth.

“Spill Nova.” His tone is darker, and I want to give him something boring but the way he’s looking at me...There’s a vulnerability. It shows that me knowing more about him than he’s comfortable with leaves him feeling exposed.

His vulnerability has me spilling my biggest piece of information.

“My dad’s got stage three colon cancer.”

I watch as his tight face drops. I see his eyes open slightly. I’m expecting pity, but I don’t see it there. Only sadness.

“I’m sorry.” His voice is strained.

I shrug. “Nothing anyone can do about it.”

“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.” He leans back in his black office chair.

“Oh yeah, it hurts. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever gone through.” I shift on my bed, unable to believe I’m sharing all this with him.

All from the wrong number.

But it’s freeing, being this vulnerable. Opening up to a guy for the first time, especially since he doesn’t have any preconceived notions about me. His non-judgment allows me to express my true feelings without the scrutiny I would receive from my friends or family.

“Nova, food’s ready.” I can hear Chelsea calling out. Relief fills my body, the awkward tension of talking about my dad”s diagnosis is heavy. I want to go back to the lightness between us. It takes me away from the dark.

“Down in a sec,” I yell at my bedroom door.

Then turn to face the phone again. I can see him frowning.

His thin lips move. “You live with your family?”

“No. I live with friends. And that’s all you need to know right now.”

His eyes soften a tad. “I see how it is.”

I smirk. “I gotta go before one of them barges in here.”

“Do you live with guys?” he asks coolly.

Would he be jealous? Only one way to find out.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

I smile as I hang up, giggling as I throw my phone on to the bed before heading downstairs to see the girls. I know he’ll text, but I won’t answer, just like he did to me last night.

Payback’s a bitch, Remy.