Christopher's POV
I stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows of my bedroom, watching the sun dip below the horizon. The sky blazed with streaks of orange and pink, nature's own light show.
"Damn," I muttered, glancing at my Rolex. 6:10 PM already.
I turned back to my walk-in closet. There are rows of tailored suits, shelves of Italian leather shoes, and enough designer watches to open my boutique. The perks of being a billionaire.
As I buttoned up my crisp white shirt, my mind wandered to Olivia. That girl was becoming a distraction, and I wasn't sure if I liked it. My fingers hovered over my phone, itching to invite her to New York.
"Come on, Christopher," I chided myself. "You're not some lovesick teenager."
Still, I found myself typing out a message:
"Darling, change of plans. How about joining me in New York?"
My thumb hovered over the send button. What if she got the wrong idea? This wasn't some romantic getaway. It was business... mostly.