The Player + The Pact = I Do (New York City Billionaires #2)

Chapter 24

TWENTY-FOUR

Leo

I’m pacing outside the apartment building, waiting for Jules to show. She sent me downstairs about thirty minutes ago to get some air . That was right after I asked her for the fiftieth time when she’d be ready. I glance at my watch. Obviously, I wore my most expensive one. It’s not my favorite, but it’s part of the image I need to project tonight. Paired with a handmade suit, it almost completes the picture. But there’s one more thing I need, and she’s twenty stories up.

“Hi,” Jules says from behind me.

I spin around to find her coming toward me in a black, floor-length, strapless gown. The fabric clings to every curve and it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, even though the most it reveals is her shoulders.

“You look… incredible,” I say.

She grins at me, and I have to fight the urge to cup her face and kiss her into next week. “Thanks. You look pretty great yourself.” She tugs on my bow tie.

I half choke on my words like I’m a nerdy thirteen-year- old being introduced to Emily Ratajkowski. “Thanks. Are you ready to go?”

She lifts her chin slightly. “Sure am.”

We’re only a few blocks away from the Plaza, where the awards will be held. I slip my hand under hers for the drive and we sit in silence. For a second I wonder what will happen with Jules and me after tonight, but I push the thought away. I can’t think of stuff like that now. Someone opens the car door as soon as we pull up and I jump out the other side. I should be the one who helps Jules out.

I take her hand and she steps out of the car. She doesn’t look like a million bucks. She looks like a billion.

She stands and sweeps her hair over one shoulder. I take her hand. We should be moving into the hotel, but I can’t stop looking at her. She’s so beautiful.

“I like your hair down like this.” I press a kiss to the side of her head.

“I’m beginning to learn that about you,” she replies, and I swear it feels like she’s reading my mind, seeing every image running through my head: How she looks when she’s on all fours, her hair curtaining her either side. How it feels when she’s on top of me, leaning back, her hair sweeping over my legs as she comes. How she moans when I gather her hair in my hand and use it to lift her chin to give me more access to her.

All I can think about is Jules, naked, when I see her hair down.

“You should definitely not wear your hair down if you want me to concentrate.”

She lifts her eyebrows slightly, like she knew exactly what she was doing tonight when she had her hair styled like this. Like she wanted my mind to be completely full of her when I see Caroline .

I’m content to stand on the red carpet, at the entrance to the hotel ballroom, but apparently Jules isn’t.

She starts to walk and tugs on my hand, laughing. “Come on. I’d like a martini.”

“I think we should make it a margarita,” I reply. “We can make that back home. Do we even need to be here?”

“Not for long,” she says.

Already she’s got me not thinking about the worst parts of this evening more than I thought possible. She’s deliberately distracting me, because that’s who she is. Always thinking about me. Caring, concerned, committed.

We make our way to the cocktail area.

“What happened to the dinner with your would-be investor in Harlem?” she asks.

I take two full champagne flutes from a tray and hand one to Jules. “Andrew? The guy you met at New River?”

“Yeah, weren’t we going to have dinner with him and his wife?”

I nod. “Yeah, trying to find a time in his diary is insane. He’s being wined and dined by the whole of New York. I’ll ask my new assistant where we are with that.”

A breeze of awkwardness passes between us. Tonight was the night that Jules and I have been working toward for the last few weeks. It was all meant to end tonight. I’ve not thought past the next few hours. We haven’t discussed what’s next for us. Is she moving out? Do I want her to? What are we doing? Are we sleeping with each other because it’s convenient or because?—

I can’t think about any of this until after tonight. I just need to focus on the here and now.

I scan the room and see various people I know. I raise my glass to the head of one of my go-to brokers just as Jonathan comes up behind us .

“Leo, my friend. The man of the moment. How are you doing?” His eyes flit between me and Jules. I smile as I see him work out whether or not we’re together.

“Great to see you, Jonathan. Have you met my fiancée, Jules Moore?”

“Your fiancée?” he asks. “You usually come stag to these kinds of events. No, I’ve not had the pleasure.”

“I couldn’t miss a night like this,” Jules says without missing a beat. “I don’t usually tag along to work events, but I made an exception for the Developer of the Decade.” She’s smooth and charming and everything I’m not feeling right now.

Just as I’m about to make an excuse and head to the bathroom, Worth appears. “Hey, guys. Jules.” He pulls her in for a hug, completing the picture that Jules is part of my inner circle.

As I chat to Worth about who from our group has arrived, which is easily cleared up because I’ve seen no one, Jonathan continues to talk to Jules. It’s only fleeting, but for a second, I wonder if they’ve met before. I know that finding out Nadia wasn’t who she said she was did a number on me, but I wish I could put those fears behind me. Everything I want to put in the past is right here in this room tonight.

“Have you seen her?” Worth asks, his tone hushed.

I shake my head. “I haven’t looked.”

“I checked the table plan. You’re at the table at the front and she’s two tables over.”

I nod, grateful that Worth’s thought to look. Forewarned is forearmed.

A couple of people from my team arrive. As I greet them, I check for Jules out of the corner of my eye. I don’t see her, and so I scan the crowd .

Someone slips a hand into mine. “Hey.” Jules is beside me. “Sorry. Jonathan sure can talk.”

“Is that Jonathan Klein from Property International ?” Franchesa, from my team, says. “He could actually represent the US in the talking Olympics. I’ve never met a man with more words.”

Bennett arrives with Efa, and I glance at Jules. Is she pleased? Does she like Efa? I do, but she’s my mate’s girlfriend—as long as she’s good to him, I’m happy. Has Jules made a friend in Efa? Why am I even thinking about this? Because you’re living in the future instead of staying in the present , a voice inside chides. Is there a future where a friendship between Efa and Jules matters to me? Do I want there to be?

Bennett comes over and we hug.

“Thanks for coming,” I say.

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

People start moving toward the ballroom and I brace myself. If Caroline and I are sitting near each other, we’re likely to bump into each other sooner rather than later.

Jules squeezes my hand. “Do you know what table we’re at?” she asks.

“Four. We’re at the front.”

We enter the ballroom and Jules glances around. I’ve been here countless times before, but fresh eyes give it new perspective. It’s very classic, old money New York. Crystal chandeliers, Grecian columns, gold leaf detail on the plasterwork. It’s so different from the developments I bring to the market. But this version of New York, built on generations of inherited wealth, is fading away.

“I bet these guys don’t have a problem booking weddings,” she says, and I smile at her understatement .

“Yeah, I don’t think the Plaza is too worried about their events calendar.”

“Maybe I’ll come and manage this place,” she says, grinning. I don’t bite, offering only an eye roll in response. I see our table and nod toward it. “There we are.”

Just as we get to our seats, I see some movement out of the corner of my eye. I don’t sit immediately. Instead, I slide my arm around Jules’ waist and brace.

I turn slightly and see Caroline’s father, Frank, coming toward me. “Leo!” he calls, lumbering toward us at speed. I hold out my free hand to shake his as he gets to us. “The man of the moment!”

“Have you met my fiancée?” I ask him. “Jules Moore.”

“Delighted,” he says, shaking Jules’ hand. “I have to introduce you to my son-in-law and daughter.” He turns and cranes his neck, beckoning someone over.

“At least we can get this bit over with before the food and your award,” Jules says beside me.

I chuckle. “That’s one way of looking at it.”

“Grant, let me introduce you to Leo Hart,” Frank says. Grant and I shake hands. “Caroline, this is Leo Hart.”

She narrows her eyes for a split second, as if she’s looking for confirmation that I’m who she thinks I am. She hasn’t changed much. She’s a little thinner. More polished. Her hair’s a little blonder. I’m waiting for the wrecking ball to knock me on my arse, but it doesn’t come. I’m tense, but nothing more. Maybe it will come later. Perhaps a knot in my gut will appear over dinner. Maybe a faint whisper of memory will settle over me as I collect my award. At the moment, though, I don’t feel anything.

“Leo!” she caws. “So good to see you.” She raises her arms slightly, like she’s expecting a good-to-see-you hug. I tighten my arm around Jules’ waist and offer my hand to shake as I kiss her cheek. “Leo and I are old friends,” Caroline says. “Knew each other when we were kids.” She smiles and it’s full of genuine warmth, like she doesn’t even remember how things ended between us.

“Really?” Grant asks. “Such a small world.”

Far too fucking small. I could have happily lived without this moment for the rest of my life.

“This is my fiancée, Jules Moore,” I say, and Jules shakes everyone’s hands.

“We should all get together for dinner,” Caroline says. “Catch up. It’s been a minute.”

“We’d love to,” Jules says, a little too quickly. She’s probably concerned I might tell them to shove their dinners up their arse. I wouldn’t, because I’ve prepared myself for this moment for far too long. But I’m still grateful that she speaks, because I wouldn’t have been able to get the words out. Even though I don’t want to be rude, I can’t bring myself to pretend away what happened between us. I don’t experience a rush of feeling for or about Caroline, but the incredible shitty-ness of what she did washes over me like it happened just yesterday. She’s a bitch.

“I’ve been following your career for a while now,” Grant says.

I nod, not sure if he’s bullshitting me or not. It doesn’t matter. It’s not like we’re ever going to do business with him.

“You’ve really done some amazing work. The stuff in Harlem looks incredible. I’d love to get a tour at some point.”

“New River is incredible,” Frank says. “You should definitely go and see it. It’s going to change that part of New York forever. It will bring new life to the place. The finishes are second to none.”

“Sales have launched, so if you have buyers, Annabelle Swain’s team would love to hear from you,” I say.

“I’m sure we have buyers,” Grant says. “If we bring enough of them, maybe we’ll get to be the agents on your next development.”

Grant is a typical agent. Pushy. Underinformed. But it gives me a sense of satisfaction that I don’t answer him with a commitment either way. He’ll take hope from that, just as Frank always has. It means he’ll waste energy and effort trying to win my business when I’ll never work with him.

A gong sounds and people start taking their seats. Frank and Grant say goodbye. Caroline reaches for my hand and squeezes. “So good to see you, darling. Glad we’ve run into each other all these years later.”

“She acted like—” Jules whispers as we move to our table. She’s practically stuttering over Caroline’s audacity.

I chuckle. “Like we were old friends reunited. So very typical of her. She doesn’t really get how her actions affect anyone. Or doesn’t care.”

Why was I so worked up about seeing her? It’s not like I want her back.

“Are you okay?” Jules whispers.

I nod. “I am.” I squeeze her leg under the table and sit back. It’s like something’s been released in me that’s been bolted in place for years. “Thank you for being here.”

She reaches up and pushes her fingertips through my hair, over my ear. “It’s my pleasure,” she says.

The rest of the members of my team join us at the table. Fisher sends over six bottles of vintage champagne before the awards announcements even begin.

“I think it’s shitty that they don’t announce your award first,” Jules says.

“You do?”

“Yeah, because then you could sit back and relax.”

“But would we stay?” I ask. “I’m not sure I could sit through all these awards if I wasn’t waiting for mine at the end.”

“I thought you’ve been to these awards before?”

“Only when I’ve been nominated for Developer of the Year. It’s a networking opportunity. I’m rarely in my seat.” Realistically, I don’t know if I’ll attend again. What’s the point? I’ve built a reputation so everyone in New York real estate knows me. I’d prefer to be at home right now. Or at dinner with Jules one-on-one.

“You do a lot of late-night events,” she says. Her tone is off. A few weeks ago, I wouldn’t have noticed, but I know her better now. What’s she thinking?

“Yeah. People tend to be more available in the evenings. It’s often easier to get dinner in someone’s diary than a meeting.”

She nods. “Right. Makes sense.” She clears her throat and busies herself smoothing her napkin in her lap. “I’ve hired a guy to help me move out tomorrow,” she says. “I don’t want to outstay my welcome. I’ve taken tomorrow off and I’m working Sunday. So tomorrow morning, I’ll have coffee with Dad and then I’ll be out of your way by the time you get home.”

It takes me a couple of minutes for my brain to process exactly what she’s saying. When her words land, the knot in my stomach I was expecting when I saw Caroline earlier finally twists my insides. “You’re moving out tomorrow?” I keep my voice low.

“Yeah. That was the plan, right? We have the awards tonight and then, that’s it?”

I’ve been so focused on tonight, I haven’t thought about what comes next. What she’s saying makes sense. The deal was that Jules would pretend to be my fiancée until tonight. And although lines have been blurred, it’s not like we’re really engaged.

“I’m just going to the restroom,” she says, before I get a chance to answer.

The awards are whizzing by quickly. Ben, sitting next to me, warns me I’m up next, or I wouldn’t have noticed that Developer of the Decade was about to be announced. I turn to see where Jules is. She’s nowhere in sight.

Jonathan comes onstage and I can feel people’s eyes on me. I focus on the stage—and realize that Jules is standing slightly behind him. Why is she onstage? She doesn’t know him.

Dread spreads through my brain and down my spine. What is happening? Am I about to be embarrassed in front of the entire industry? Is Jules in on some kind of scheme?

I tune in to what Jonathan is saying. He’s going through some of the developments I’ve brought to market over the last decade. People interrupt with smatterings of applause. I glance across at Caroline, who’s grinning up at the stage as if she’s enjoying the description of my success.

Jonathan steps to the side and Jules takes his place. I hold my breath, gripping the table, waiting.

“How Leo Hart does business is just as important as how successful he is. He’s as popular in the office, with all the people who work for him, as he is with the people he sits across from at the negotiating table. He’s a man whose word stands for something. A man of principles and integrity. I’m lucky to be his fiancée, and proud to tell you that the man you’re celebrating tonight deserves every honor and then some. Let’s all welcome to the stage, Developer of the Decade, easy to like, easy to love, Leo Hart.”

Our table is just steps from the stage, so I’m face-to-face with Jules in a couple of seconds. Our eyes lock as she hands me the award. Yes, she had to say all those things about me, but did she mean it when she said I was easy to love?

Jules turns to leave the stage, but I catch her hand and hold it as I make a short speech, thanking everyone who’s helped me get where I am now. It passes in a blur, and before I know it, Jules and I are making our way back to our seats.

I hold her hand tightly in mine for the rest of the evening, not wanting to let her go for a second.

The rest of the night passes quickly. When the ceremony’s over, we’re told there’s an after-hours party in the room next door.

My gaze slices to Jules and it’s clear that neither of us wants to go. Bennett, Fisher, and the others all come up and congratulate me, then it’s just Jules and me heading to the car. We’re in the lobby when Caroline and Grant appear in front of us.

“Darling, wonderful speech,” she says. “Let me get your number and we’ll arrange that dinner.”

My eye twitches, but I dutifully pull out my phone. Before we can exchange numbers, Jules interrupts. “I’ll give you my number, Caroline. I’m much easier to get a hold of.”

Caroline smiles, and she and Jules swap numbers.

Grant slaps me on the back. “Here’s my card. If you ever want a second opinion about anything, just give me a call. I know you haven’t worked with Hammonds before, but we have some great international reach. Asia in particular is a strength for us. I just had an investor buy five units in a new development over the phone. He didn’t even see renderings.”

I nod, pretending I’m interested. I’m not. Not even if Hammonds was the only brokerage in the city. If that were the case, I’d set up my own fucking brokerage. I glance across at Caroline, giggling with Jules like they’re best friends. Grant is so close, I’m slightly concerned he’s going to try to crawl up my arsehole.

I need a shower.

“I’ll keep it in mind,” I say. “Jules, the car is just there. We should go.”

“Lovely to see you, darling,” Caroline says again to me. “It’s wonderful seeing you’ve made something out of yourself. I always knew you would.”

I no longer care if I look rude. I nod, scoop up Jules’ hand, and head out to the car.

I’m not just going to have a shower. I’m going to have to burn my suit and shave my head to rid myself of that encounter.

I slide into the car next to Jules and sweep my hands through my hair.

“That went well,” Jules says.

I should thank her for making her speech, but I can’t bring myself to speak. I can taste Caroline’s heavy perfume, feel her fingers on my hand.

“Are you okay?” Jules asks eventually.

“I’m a fool,” I say finally. “How could I have ever loved her? How could I have let Nadia get so close? What is the matter with me that I can build a successful business like I’m riding a bike, but I can’t read people?”

“That’s bullshit,” she says, her voice harsh compared to the saccharine-sweetness she poured on for Caroline.

I choke out a laugh. “Not from where I’m sitting.”

“Then you need to sit over here. Firstly, running a business like yours isn’t easy. You work really hard and you’re completely committed. Secondly, you were a teenager when Caroline Hammond got her talons into you. You were a kid. And Nadia? Who the fuck is she, anyway? Some woman you knew for five minutes who probably had nice tits and gave a great blow job? She wanted something from you and she got it because you weren’t focused on her —you were focused on your business. She was just white noise.”

I laugh at the way Jules puts things. White noise?

“You can’t give yourself a hard time about either of those women. Yes, they were using you, but everyone uses everyone. That’s just life. You needed a fiancée; I wanted a job at The Mayfair. New York City needs more apartments and you want more money. A billionaire wants a hot wife and a hot girl wants billions. That’s the way it is. You’ve just got to make sure you’re getting what you need while everyone else is getting what they want. Separate transactional relationships from your friends and family—the ones who would walk through fire or bury a body for you. You have more people like that in your life than most. Those are the people you need to spend your energy on. Everyone else can fuck off.”

“I never thought of my relationship with Caroline as transactional.”

“That’s why it smarts with Caroline—because she took what she wanted from you and didn’t give you what you wanted in return. But that’s one woman, one time in your life. You’re one of the most powerful men in Manhattan. That’s not going to happen again.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“You’re not eighteen anymore,” she says. “You’re smarter. You’re more experienced. And you know when to trust your heart and when to trust your gut.”

“Do I?” I ask. I’m not so sure.

“You do. You’re talking about two instances where someone has used you in over a decade. But people are actually using you all the time and, importantly, vice versa.”

“That’s not true,” I say. When did Jules get so cynical?

“What about real estate agents? They use you. You think they’d be as nice to you if you weren’t the biggest developer in New York City? Of course not. But you need them, too. It’s just business. It’s a mutually predatory relationship. It’s a trade. Just like us.”

“Like us?”

“I said yes to being your fiancée because you said I could manage The Mayfair. It’s… it was business.”

“And now? You move out tomorrow and that’s it?”

She holds my gaze.

“That’s the end of our arrangement,” she says.

What if I want a new arrangement?

“Right.” I can’t think of anything else to say. I like Jules. Really like her. And I don’t think what we have together is any kind of trade. We’re not using each other. Are we? Is she? I know she wants the permanent job at the hotel. But that’s not why we’re sleeping together, is it?

I shake my head. That can’t be it, or she wouldn’t be moving out. She’d be trying to stay.

One thing I know for certain is that being with Jules doesn’t feel like being with Caroline or Nadia. Jules feels like she fits with me in a way I knew I didn’t with Caroline—or maybe it was all too long ago to remember. Now, with the awards ceremony behind me, memories of me and Caroline are fading. The hatred and disgust I have for her and myself for falling for her seem further away, like they were part of another life. Another lifetime.

I’m more focused on the we of me and Jules, and why she’s so keen to move out. Doesn’t she want to stay ?

“Tonight is the end of our business arrangement,” I say. “Tomorrow is a fresh start.”

She’s staring straight ahead, her expression closed to me. I want to know what she’s thinking.

“Let’s have lunch tomorrow. Talk about some stuff.” I need tonight to sort things out in my brain. Asking Jules to stay living in my guest room doesn’t seem like the right thing to do, but if I ask her to share the master? I’m not sure either of us is ready for that.

“I can’t tomorrow. I’m meeting my dad for coffee and then he’s coming to meet you, remember? I figure I can pretty much drop him off at your door. At least that way I know he’ll show.”

She smiles at me and slides her hand into mine.

“Dinner, then?” I ask. “Why don’t you delay your move-out a couple days? We can have dinner.” We need to talk—I’m just not quite sure what about yet. I don’t want to give her up simply because our fake engagement is over. I really like her.

She looks at me, her eyes narrowing. “The weekend?”

“It makes more sense.”

She sighs as if the thought of dinner with me is a chore. “I suppose.” She says the words carefully, like she’s arranging them between shards of broken glass. If I didn’t know her better, I would say she just wants to move out and get on with her life. But I do know her better. Maybe neither of us knows where to go from here. All I’m sure of is that I want to figure it out.

“Hey, careful. Don’t get overly excited at the prospect of dinner with me.”

She laughs. “I am excited. This is my excited face.”

I grin at her, relief shuddering through me at the familiar warmth in her tone. “You’re beautiful.”

“And excited.”