Page 58 of The Billionaire in Her Bed

It was a good thing Eli had a tight grasp on his glass or it would have hit the floor. “How do you know about Brooke?”

“Paige said she was looking for you at the auction, and I saw the two of you leave together.”

“Well if you saw us leave together, then you know it wasn’t all sunshine and roses.” Eli drained his glass and strode over to the credenza to get a refill. This was definitely a two-scotch conversation. Maybe three.

“What did you do to piss off the hotel heiress?”

Eli’s palms started to sweat. He wiped them on his pants and somehow managed to pour two fingers of scotch without sloshing it all over the floor. “The what?”

“Brooke Worthington. Heir apparent to the Worthington hotel chain.” Simon gaped at him. “You didn’t know?”

Worthington. Why hadn’t he made the connection? Probably for the same reason he’d been able to fly under the radar on the other side of the Brooklyn Bridge. He wasn’t expecting to find a hotel heiress in Sunset Park. And like him, Brooke hadn’t wanted to make a big deal out of her wealth. Okay, so she hadn’t out-and-out lied about it like he had, but she hadn’t exactly been forthcoming, either. No wonder she’d been so understanding about that part of his deception. Too bad he had to compound it by hiding the fact that he was going to be her new landlord.

Eli settled back behind his desk with his drink. “Can’t say I blame her for keeping it to herself. It’s not like I was entirely truthful with her.”

“Hold on.” Simon held up a hand. “You lost me. Back up and start at the beginning.”

Maybe it was the scotch. Maybe it was the fact that Simon had been his closest friend for over ten years. Whatever the reason, Eli found himself giving him the condensed version of his relationship with Brooke, concluding with the whole sorry scene in the closet.

When he was done, Simon let out a low whistle. “Man, that’s rough. What are you going to do?”

“What can I do? She won’t take my calls. Blocked my number. She clearly doesn’t want to have anything to do with me.” Eli took a sip of his scotch and cupped the glass between his hands, staring down into the amber abyss. “I can’t believe I’m telling you all this.”

“We can’t always pick our allies. You know, beggars can’t be choosers and all that.” Simon tossed back the rest of his drink.

“You have a weird, twisted point.” Eli loosened his tie and undid the first button on his shirt. “So how do I win back a woman who won’t talk to me? She won’t even let me show her the plans for Candy Court.”

“What plans?”

Eli set his glass aside and grabbed a cardboard tube from behind his desk. He slid the plans out and spread them flat on the desk. Simon leaned forward to study them for a long minute then sat back, running a finger thoughtfully along his jaw. “Interesting.”

“Yep.”

“Not our usual M.O.”

“Nope.”

Simon tapped the plans. “If this doesn’t convince her you love her, nothing will.”

“That would be great if there were a snowball’s chance in hell I could get her to look at it.”

“You need to find out where she’s going to be. Somewhere public, where she can’t freak out. Then you spring this on her, say those three magic words, and bam. All is forgiven.”

“Sounds kind of like stalking.”

“Not if it works,” Simon shot back, unruffled. “Then it’s romantic.”

Eli drummed his fingers on the desktop, something he did when he was deep in thought. “She mentioned something about a neighborhood meeting to discuss the sale of the building.”

“Perfect.” Simon raised his glass, signaling for a refill. “Women love a grand gesture. You can unveil the plans there. Win everyone over with your wit, charm, and brilliant vision.”

“It’s pretty risky,” Eli mused, ignoring his friend’s empty glass. “What if she turns me down? I’m not really into public humiliation.”

“What’s that old saying? Nothing ventured, nothing gained?” Giving up on Eli, Simon went to the credenza and poured his own drink. “You didn’t get where you are today by playing it safe.”

Eli lifted his glass to his lips and drank, a plan already starting to form. He’d have to move fast. First order of business was to find out when and where the meeting was being held without tipping off Brooke. And he knew just the person to help him.

“Go big or go home.” He raised his glass in a mock toast.