How to Solve a Murder with a Billionaire (How to Solve a Murder #6)

Prologue

Seymour

I have rules when it comes to love and dating.

I have rules when it comes to business and life.

Every time I veer from these guidelines, disaster strikes. And I mean the kind of disaster that makes you question why you ever left your house that morning.

Because some women? They love a challenge.

You might wonder about these rules. They could save you in a pinch, too. They’re worth memorizing or writing on a piece of paper or carving into your heart. Think of them as your personal survival guide in the jungle of modern dating.

First rule: never be alone with an attractive woman.

This might sound extreme. Maybe even paranoid. But trust me, I’ve learned this lesson the hard way, multiple times. It could lead to exchanging phone numbers, or the dreaded “casual” coffee invitation that somehow turns into dinner plans.

And it’s all downhill from there.

Pretty soon, you’re in the uncomfortable place of explaining why you no longer want to see her “in the romantic sense.” No really, you want to tell her, you don’t want to text late at night or early in the morning—and dear God, never before eight.

I still have nightmares about the 6 AM “good morning handsome” texts.

Something changes in the air when a man with money is alone with a beautiful woman, single or not. The very atmosphere seems to shift.

I swear they can smell it, like sharks sensing blood in the water. Right before my eyes, they transform from simply an attractive, pleasant woman to something else entirely.

I’ve seen it happen countless times. The moment they realize who I am—or more accurately, what I’m worth—there’s this change.

Their eyes get this gleam. One could call it lust, but it’s not for me.

It’s for the lifestyle they’re already imagining in their heads.

The yachts, the worldwide travel, the absurd luxuries like gold-plated toilets.

When we’re in a group setting, it’s different. They maintain composure. There’s a modicum of self-control. Or at least I can see it coming and make my escape. I’ve become quite skilled at the art of the strategic retreat.

You might think I’m cynical. Maybe I am.

But after the incident with the woman who hired a private investigator to find out where I live, or the one who “accidentally” showed up at every charity event I attended for three months straight, you develop a certain...perspective.

The second rule is brilliant in its simplicity: No smiling.

A smile can be many things. A greeting. A thank you. A simple acknowledgment of another human’s existence. But in my world? It’s an invitation to disaster.

Because in this particular situation, a smile is a door. Not just any door.

It’s a vault door that, once opened, is nearly impossible to close.

It leads to conversation. To the person on the receiving end believing you like them.

To them thinking, Oh, he seems nice. And before you know it, they’re smiling back, and if your smile is considered or perceived in any way seductive or beckoning (which, apparently, ANY smile from a wealthy man is), they eventually move toward you.

It happens as predictably as gravity.

I’ve timed it. The smile-to-approach ratio is roughly thirty seconds, depending on the woman’s confidence level and how many glasses of champagne she’s had at the charity auction.

Honestly, can’t a man just smile to be friendly without it becoming a gateway to an awkward conversation?

One where he’s literally backing away while the hovering female follows, completely ignoring his body language.

The stiff back, the icy glare, the slightly turned body that’s screaming This conversation is as welcome as a root canal.

So definitely no smiling or flirting. Not even to be nice. Trust me, I’ve been there, done that, and have the restraining orders to prove it. (That’s a joke. Mostly.)

Rule number three is my personal favorite: No coffee. Of any kind.

Just like the smile, it’s an opening. “Would you like to grab coffee sometime?” sounds innocent enough. But coffee leads to lunch. Lunch leads to dinner. Dinner leads to weekend getaways, and suddenly you’re explaining to her that all you wanted was coffee.

Not a lifetime together.

When the offer comes, just nod and respond with a noncommittal “Hmm,” then suddenly spot someone across the room you absolutely must talk to. Practice this move in the mirror if you have to.

Here’s the important part. In order to meet for coffee, they’ll ask for your number “in case something comes up.”

Never exchange phone numbers.

Ever.

I don’t care if she’s quoting your favorite obscure philosopher or shares your passionate hatred of cilantro.

It doesn’t matter how beautiful she is, how long her legs, how genuine her smile, or even if she makes you laugh. That’s the most dangerous situation of all.

The ones who can make you laugh. It’s a Trojan horse.

You think, Oh, this one’s different. Then, three weeks later, she’s banging on your door at midnight, mascara running down her face, sobbing that she’s in love and wants to have your babies and what did she do wrong and “Don’t you remember how we both hate cilantro? ”

If you must engage in conversation (after all, we live in a polite society, and there are galas and fundraisers), then we must take special care. I’ve mastered the art of being simultaneously affable and unapproachable.

It’s like being a friendly statue. Present but untouchable.

The absolute most important rule?

Never tell them what you do for a living. Offer vague answers. Say “I’m in business” or “It’s complicated” or my personal favorite, “I don’t want to bore you.” Then quickly end the conversation and move on.

If necessary, lie.

Tell them you’re a used car salesman or that you live in your mother’s basement and collect vintage action figures. It works wonders. It’s like watching interest evaporate in real time. Quite remarkable, really.

So far, these rules have worked well for me.

Yes, I spend most evenings alone in my ridiculously large house, watching documentaries about penguins. And yes, sometimes I wonder if I’m missing out on something. But isn’t it better to spare them the rejection later?

Call it kindness. Call it self-preservation. Call it whatever you want.

Here’s the thing about having wealth. It doesn’t matter how you act. I know, it’s unfair. You will always have “friends.” You will always question the sincerity of those friendships. You will always wonder if people like you for you or for your bank account.

It can be freeing. It can be lonely.

Sometimes, late at night, when I’m watching those penguin documentaries, I wonder if maybe I’ve built these rules too high, made these walls too thick.

But then I remember the woman who somehow got my private email and sent me daily horoscopes for six months, and I know.

These rules exist for a reason.

Here’s my advice: live by these rules. Be open to adding new ones as the situation arises. And maybe, just maybe, invest in a good security system.

Trust me on this one.