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Smart man. I’ll kill him last for having a few working brain cells.
I squeeze his hand in mine. “Do you believe in soulmates?” The corner of his mouth tilts into a smile. “Not until I found you.”
“You have a billionaire worshiping the ground you walk on, flying you all over the world on his private jet and buying you a hundred-million-dollar yacht, and you’re thinking about ice cream.”
“How much is this deal worth?” I ask in curiosity. “Three hundred million.” “Dollars?” “No, chickens. Yes, dollars. Don’t give me that look. I don’t even consider deals unless there’s at least seven zeros at the end of it.”
I scoff. “You were a Boy Scout?” “No. I was way too much of a savage to be a Boy Scout.”