Page 5 of The Good Billionaire
I scrambled from the bed and showered to sober up while gargling industrial strength mouthwash the entire time.
How the hell Tristan knew she’d be there, I planned to ignore. I knew they’d been in contact for the wedding. I never expected Tristan or any of my cousins would make a play for Kennedy. But Hart men had damn good genes. It would be damn tempting for her.
Need Tom,I texted back to Tristan, asking for his limo driver.
The dots appeared after a few minutes.OTW.
Thanks,I replied and finished getting ready.
Ten minutes later, Tristan’s shiny black Town Car rolled up to my white brick townhouse. I opened the door, not making the driver treat me like a prima donna. My cousins and I had all grown up middle class.
“Hey, Tom,” I greeted the chauffeur as I slid into the back seat.
Showing up in a fancy car like this
wouldn’t impress Kennedy. Besides being a rich surgeon, I was also a billionaire thanks to the investment profits my father had gotten from The Sterling hotel. My dad had loaned his brother the money to get The Sterling up and running back in the early days in exchange for a profit balloon ten years later. That had fattened up my joint bank account with Kennedy. Never for a moment had I thought to sock it away somewhere she couldn’t touch it.
And I knew Kennedy would never ask for a penny of that money. Didn’t need it. She made a good living in her own right.
I wore a pair of dress slacks, a button-down shirt, and a simple sports coat under my charcoal cashmere winter coat. The temperature had plummeted last week when another New York winter had blown into town and would stay to freeze everyone out until late March.
“How long will it take to get to Park Slope?” I asked Tom.
“GPS says thirty minutes, sir. Bridge is always clogged, though.”
My Gear watch read 12:30. I expected to beat Kennedy to the appointment. Be waiting there for her. I brought the bakery up on my phone and zoomed in to find a florist nearby. Screw flowers, my wife would prefer a cookie. She loved sweets. Loved licking whipped cream off my chest and other places...
Thirty minutes turned into two hours and I started sweating the last five blocks, ready to ditch the Town Car and run.
The orange and white polka dot awning came into view and I had the car door open before Tom stopped. “Am I waiting, sir?” the driver called out.
“No,” I yelled over my shoulder. “Yeah. No. I don’t know.”
Through the bakery’s decorated windows, I saw the back of Kennedy’s head. Her blonde waves flowed down her back. God,I used to wash that gorgeous silk for her in the shower. I fucking missed her so much.
A tall skinny woman stood next to Kennedy. Catching my breath, I opened the door. Bells on the handle chimed, turning Kennedy around.
Her jaw tipped open until her eyes narrowed. “Let me guess. Tristan?”
“Wrong Hart, babe. He’s the crazy, daring one. I’m the handsome, sexy one.” I sauntered in and came up to the glass case filled with shiny frosted cakes.
Predictably, Kennedy rolled her eyes, but I noticed how the corners of her mouth curled up as she held back a smile. I could still make her laugh. That was a good sign.
“Zelda, this is Sebastian, Savannah’s brother. Sebastian, this is your sister’s wedding planner.”
“Hellooo,” she said with a wry smile. “You’re the ex, huh?”
“Um...” Kennedy blushed. Like those damn divorce papers were already signed, sealed, and delivered.
Nope. Not signing them.
Kennedy folded a wad of papers and shoved them in her purse. Glancing at me, she said, “We’re done here.”
“Not exactly. And I’m not her ex.” I gripped the back of her head and kissed the shit out of her, deep and wet.
Kennedy staggered back acting surprised by the enthusiastic tongue action. “Jesus, Sebastian. We’re in public.”
“I don’t give a shit,” I murmured.
