Lexi

Three weeks had passed since the pier incident, and I was still getting used to my new reality. The mysterious messages had stopped after Lucian had confronted Frank Moore and his accomplices even though I tried stopping him.

It turned out Rodriguez had been right, Moore, Shaw, and a disgruntled former employee of Lucian's had been working together to scare both of us.

The scenarios made me wonder how far Frank Moore was willing to go for a damning story on Lucian Cross. Not all billionaires are ass holes, Lucian made me realize that.

"Are you sure about this?" I asked Lucian for the third time as his driver pulled up to the restaurant. "I mean, it's just lunch with your business partners. I don't need to be there."

Lucian turned to look at me, that amused smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Lexi, we've been through this. Where I go, you go. End of discussion."

“To do what?” I asked, crossing my arms.

He turned to me, his face stern. “To do your job. You're a journalist. What if I was meeting the leader of a gang for some shady deals?” His gaze narrowed.

I rolled my eyes. “I can't deal with you. What if they think I'm some kind of... I don't know, gold digger or something?”

"Then they'd be wrong." He reached over and squeezed my hand. "Besides, you're the one who helped me realize that Peterson was embezzling from the Miami project. I'd say you've earned your place at the table."

I still couldn't believe how much my life had changed. Lucian had offered me a part-time job as his personal consultant, a job that seemed to mostly involve following him around, asking questions, and pointing out things he might have missed.

"Personal consultant," I muttered under my breath. "That's not even a real job title."

"It is now," Lucian said, clearly having heard me. "And you're excellent at it."

The restaurant was one of those places where you needed a reservation six months in advance, and the hostess practically genuflected when she saw Lucian. I was getting used to that too, the way people treated him like royalty wherever we went.

"Mr. Cross, your usual table is ready," the hostess said, leading us through the dining room.

I could feel eyes on us as we walked. Over the past few weeks, there have been more and more photos of us together in the gossip magazines. "Lucian Cross's Mystery Woman," they called me. "Who Is the Brunette Stealing the Billionaire's Heart?"

"They're staring," I whispered to Lucian.

"Let them stare," he replied, placing his hand on the small of my back as we walked. "They're just jealous."

"Jealous of what? I'm wearing a dress from Target."

"And you look better in it than most women look in designer gowns."

I felt my cheeks warm. Even after weeks of his compliments, I still wasn't used to them. Growing up with a father who criticized everything and a job where I was constantly judged, Lucian's unwavering confidence in me felt like a foreign language I was slowly learning to speak.

We reached the table where three men in expensive suits were already waiting. I recognized them from the photos Lucian had shown me investors in his latest hotel project.

"Gentlemen," Lucian said, shaking hands with each of them. "I'd like you to meet Lexi Carter, my personal consultant."

The oldest of the three, a man named Harrison, looked me up and down with barely concealed skepticism. "Consultant? What kind of consulting does Miss Carter do?"

"The kind that keeps me from making expensive mistakes," Lucian replied smoothly, pulling out my chair. "Lexi has an interesting perspective on things."

As we sat down, I could see Harrison exchanging glances with the other investors. I knew what they were thinking, what was a billionaire doing with someone like me?

"So, Miss Carter," Harrison said, leaning forward slightly, "what's your background? Business school? Finance?"

"Journalism, actually," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. "I used to work for Metropolitan Magazine."

"Ah, entertainment journalism," another investor, Mitchell, said dismissively. "How... quaint."

I felt my temper flare. "Actually, I specialized in investigative reporting. Corporate fraud, political corruption, that sort of thing."

"Is that how you met Lucian?" Harrison asked, and there was something sharp in his tone. "Investigating him?"

The table went quiet. I could feel Lucian tense beside me.

"Yes," I said simply. "I was assigned to write an exposé on him. But I discovered that the story I was supposed to write wasn't the truth."

"And what was the truth?" Mitchell asked, wearing a smirk.

I looked at Lucian, who nodded encouragingly. "The truth was that I was being manipulated by people who wanted to destroy both of us. And the truth was that Lucian Cross isn't the ruthless monster the media makes him out to be."

Harrison laughed, but it wasn't a pleasant sound. "How romantic. The reporter falls for her subject."

"Actually," I said, my voice getting stronger, "the reporter realized that her subject was more honest than her own boss. More loyal than her own father. And more trustworthy than anyone else in her life."

Lucían gazed at me. I could see the surprise on his face and I know why. I have never said anything nice about him, and definitely not in the presence of others.

"Besides," I continued, looking directly at Harrison, "I may not have gone to business school, but I know enough to recognize when someone's trying to skim money off the top of a construction project."

The color drained from Harrison's face. "I beg your pardon?"

"The Miami hotel project. Your construction estimates are inflated by about thirty percent. Either you're terrible at math, or you're planning to pocket the difference."

The silence at the table was deafening. Mitchell and the third investor, Roberts, were staring at Harrison with new understanding dawning on their faces.

"That's a serious accusation," Harrison said quietly.

"It's a serious crime," I replied. "Lucky for you, Lucian believes in giving people chances to make things right."

"So," Lucian said conversationally, "shall we order lunch and discuss how we're going to restructure this project? Or would you prefer to explain to your other investors why you won't be able to participate anymore?"

Harrison's face was red now, but he nodded stiffly. "Lunch sounds fine."

As the waiter approached, I caught Lucian's eye and saw him mouth "thank you" across the table.

Maybe I was getting the hang of this personal consultant thing after all.