The Last Eligible Billionaire

I’m deep in discussion in my office with my brother’s favorite jeweler Thursday afternoon, a couple days after the night in the meadow, when Merriweather knocks on my door. “Mrs. Werenski, Mr. Rutherford.”

A brown-haired, round-cheeked, very pregnant Begonia strolls through the door.

And I nearly fall out of my seat.

I know this isn’t Begonia. I know this woman is her twin. I’ve seen this woman before, talked with her over video even.

But I had no idea the woman was about to pop, and the sight of a woman who looks so very similar to Begonia carrying a child makes something primal and instinctive and possessive spring to life deep inside me.

I know better. I do.

“Don’t make that face,” Hyacinth says, though she’s not nearly as cheeky as she was on the phone. Her eyes are a bit too wide as she looks around my office and soaks it all in. “Third pregnancies always make you look like you could deliver any minute from the fifth month on. So. Are you making an honest woman of my sister, or what?”

Merriweather’s lips twitch. “Good luck, Mr. Rutherford.” She pulls the door shut behind her, leaving me alone with Begonia’s twin, Evan the jeweler, and a velvet box of rare diamonds.

I rise and cross the room to kiss her cheek. “Hyacinth. Thank you for coming.”

“Oh, you are fancy. Are you sure you’re in love with my sister? She’s as anti-fancy as they get.”

“All the more reason to adore her.”

Evan clears his throat.

“Hyacinth, meet Mr. Sirotkin. We’re hoping you could help us narrow down choices for a surprise for your sister.”

“Are those diamonds?”

“Yes, Mrs. Werenski.”

“Like, that whole thing is a diamond? All of those whole things are diamonds?”

She gestures to the velvet display box lined with two dozen of the best diamonds in North America.

Evan’s face doesn’t move.

I nod to Hyacinth. “Yes.”

She eyes Evan, then me, then Evan, then me again. “I’m trying to decide if I should ask how well you know my sister, or how badly you fucked up.”

Not that I had any doubts that this woman is Begonia’s twin, but every word out of her mouth is further confirmation that I’m doing the right—and the wrong—things.

She knows her sister better than I do, yet I know Begonia well enough at this point to not be offended by her statement.

“Evan, could you give us a moment?” I ask.

“Shall I leave the jewels?”

“Only if he’s buying them for someone else,” Hyacinth quips.

I nod, indicating he should take the diamonds with him.

“Your mother’s birthday is coming up,” he muses as he closes the box.

“Jonas drew the short end of the stick this year. He’ll be in touch.”

Hyacinth’s jaw goes slack. “I keep forgetting you’re Jonas Rutherford’s brother. Can I touch you again? Maybe have a lick in absentia?”

“No.”

“Phew. Thank you. If you can be a little more dickish like that, it’ll help.”

The door clicks shut behind Evan, who’s paid too well by my family to breathe a word of anything he just heard, and Hyacinth peers around the room again. “Is this place bugged?”

“No.”

“Will Begonia get in trouble with you if I ask rude questions?”

“Your sister could talk her way out of a murder conviction if she were caught holding a bloody knife over the victim. If the police don’t stand a chance, I fail to see how I do.”

“Because she wouldn’t have done it. There would be a logical explanation. Probably that her dog did it, but he was justified.”

My lips twitch.

“Oh my god, you almost smiled.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “Are you seriously dating my sister, or are you blackmailing her with something, or is she doing you a favor? What’s going on here? This has all the makings of a Razzle Dazzle movie, and Begonia is totally lying to me about something, probably a lot of things, and I’m pretty sure you’re banging her, but that doesn’t mean anything beyond that she’s getting some nookie post-divorce so she can get back on that horse for real again soon. I mean, if you’re not for real.”

I settle onto the edge of my desk and lift my brows at her. “Are you finished?”

“No. Not even close. Is Jonas’s marriage real, or was that staged for someone’s reputation rehab, because Peyton Baker? Really? And if you two were the two last eligible male billionaires left on the planet, that would almost be too much, you know? And totally unfair to you, because he’d get all the attention, but then, he always does, doesn’t he? It’s like I always thought Begonia would resent me for getting all the attention, but she’s just so nice, and she didn’t care that I got to play Annie in the school play and she was stuck in the chorus, because she’s always—oof.”

Hyacinth bends at the waist and grabs her stomach.

I leap to my feet. “Are you in labor?”

“No, the little bastard just kicked me in the ribs. He doesn’t like it when I talk too much.” She lifts a finger. “Do not say a word. I’ve heard it all already.”

I pinch my lips together, incredibly grateful it was Begonia and not Hyacinth that I found in my hideaway in Maine.

She waves a hand at me. “Your turn. Spill your guts. Why are you dating my sister?”

“She’s disarmingly attractive, inside and out, and I can’t seem to help myself.”

“Did you really make her sign a non-disclosure agreement?”

“I made you sign a non-disclosure agreement.”

“Yeah, but you’re not dating me. You’re just tormenting me by not answering my questions after flying me up here on a fancy jet because you thought it would be a nice surprise for my sister.”

She has a valid point.

But I still don’t answer her question.

She narrows her green eyes at me. “Are you going to hurt Begonia?”

“I will do all in my power to save her any grief, which is unfortunately easier said than done in my world. But I still promise to go above and beyond to protect her.”

That part is undeniably true.

The last time I was with a woman who made me want to crawl across the bed in the middle of the night, wake her with kisses, and make love to her until dawn, she crushed my heart so thoroughly that I haven’t honestly let myself be real with anyone since.

She wasn’t the first.

She was simply the last. I dated after her, but I never fully let my guard down with anyone.

For years, I’ve told myself my lack of interest was because my standards were too high, the media attention was too much of a bother, and that I prefer my solitude to the complications that go with relationships.

But it’s not entirely true.

Partially true, yes.

But fear—fear has been a major factor for most of my adult life.

Fear and denial.

And now Begonia has brought back to life a part of myself that I’d sworn to bury forever while pretending love and companionship were overrated.

The worst part?

I’ve missed that part of me, that part that connected with people, that enjoyed people.

I didn’t truly understand how lonely I was until Thomas died, and even then, it took Begonia charging through my walls for me to realize I want to trust someone again. I don’t want to go through the rest of my life regretting not spending time with the people I’ll miss when they’re gone, and I don’t want to go through the rest of my life avoiding pain to the point of sheer loneliness.

Begonia signed our contract extension this morning, but all the while, I couldn’t help but wonder how I might manage to keep her past the summer.

I know the easy answer.

Ask her.

But the easy answer requires a leap of faith I’m not ready to take.

It would require me to let her all the way in.

To fully trust her.

To be worthy of having her trust in return.

And that means not hurting her.

If I can avoid it.

“Do I really get to see her as part of this trip?” Hyacinth asks.

“Naturally. She needs a new dress for a charity gala in the city tomorrow. I assumed you’d be her preferred shopping companion.”

“Can I go to the gala?”

“The Rutherfords are known for not making scenes.”

She cackles, and I know I’m toast.

Begonia will ask, I’ll say of course, my love, because that’s what a doting boyfriend would say, and tomorrow night, my fake girlfriend’s twin sister will stuff her bra with cocktail shrimp, drink too many virgin mojitos, pretend to be drunk, and tell the wrong reporter that she thinks we’re faking this relationship.

Or so I presume, having met both twins now.

And then I’ll have every reason I need to take Begonia on a romantic getaway, where I’ll be caught on camera slipping a ring onto her finger, as we contractually agreed to this morning.

I have zero desire to hurt her.

I just want to keep her.

For as long as possible.