Resisting Mr. Rich (The Men Series Book 8)
Resisting Mr. Rich: Chapter 5

I ANSWER ALL MADDY’S questions as best I can on the drive to the airport, unable to resist the urge to mess with her once or twice. She gets this deep, angry line between her brows when she’s annoyed, and making it into a game of how many times I get that line to appear brings me a perverse sense of enjoyment.

I especially enjoy the way she bites down on her bottom lip and her eyes grow wide as we sail through the private entrance of the airport and over to the hangar the jet is kept in. I forget that it’s Drew who’s seen my family’s wealth more than she ever has. But if she thinks this is impressive, then she might pass out when we get to Rome. The thought pleases me, and I grin as we board the jet and I greet the pilots and two flight attendants.

Maddy’s watching me but snaps her eyes away with a small huff as I catch her looking.

“Sit where you like,” I say, walking in behind her and placing my briefcase down on a shiny table set up between four giant, cream leather seats.

She glances at me before her eyes return to their previous assessment of the cabin interior. Dad bought this jet last year. It can get us to Milan in under an hour and a half. Faster than any other jet in existence. It makes business sense. Every minute saved is an extra minute I have in Italy to drum up excitement from the list of investors I’m meeting with. And with any luck, some extra ones I might secure.

The back of my neck grows hot, and I tip my chin at the flight attendant. I offer Maddy a drink, then ask for an iced water for myself. Every trip for investors has a lot riding on it. The stakes are always high.

But there’s even more counting on this one being successful. The small issue of an organized marriage that I have no intention of entering into. I thought Dad would have caved by now. That he would have realized that I’ll get the funding on this trip and chalk his suggestion up to momentary panic at the fact we’re taking on our biggest project to date. That, or a mid-life crisis about his ticking clock for becoming a grandfather or something.

But he hasn’t. And judging by the fact the housekeeper changed the guest room bedding when I was at their house earlier, I’d say he isn’t any closer to taking back what he said. If anything would have made him think more clearly, then it would be Mum banishing him from the master suite. They’ve never spent a night apart, bar one before their wedding.

He really is hellbent on me marrying Gabrielle. And I would bet my left kidney that Gabrielle won’t want this either. I tried to reach her as soon as Dad dropped the bombshell. But she’s flown to help at an earthquake site in Turkey, so it could be days before she replies to my message. Still, even knowing that she will never agree to it either hasn’t eased the lingering tension that’s knotted my gut since the conversation with Dad. He said Spencer was waiting to talk with Gabrielle too, so she’s probably still oblivious to their crazy scheme.

Ignorance is bliss, indeed.

I wipe at my brow and then loosen my tie and undo the top button of my shirt, thanking the flight attendant for my water as she returns. I down the contents of the crystal tumbler and place the glass down and look at Maddy, who’s settled herself into one of the seats on the opposite side of the aisle. She’s typing furiously into her phone.

I get up and move toward her. She’s so engrossed she doesn’t notice.

“What Maddy’s reading?”

She jumps as I drop into the seat next to her, reading over her shoulder.

“It’s the social media account I run for the magazine.” She tilts the screen away as a dude with a rippling six pack fills it. “I post book teasers and give reading recommendations.”

“Never said a word.” I hold my hands up in the air, biting back my smile.

She turns her attention back to her phone, side-eyeing me after a few minutes. “Don’t you have to strap in for take-off?” Her gaze moves to the seat across the aisle.

“How could I forget?” I slap my palm against my forehead and start to stand. She exhales with a relieved-sounding sigh. But it’s cut short as I fall back into the seat next to hers and click my seatbelt fastened. I even add a little wink as I pull the strap tight.

Her eyes drop to my crotch before the deep line appears between her brows. Her lips curl down like she’s tasted something gross.

“I like the view from this side on take-off.” I lean closer to her and gesture out of the window. “You’ll see Buckingham Palace once we get up in the air.”

She huffs. “Will I also see my escape pod? Because I’m thinking it might get used once we’re airborne.”

I close my eyes as I relax into my seat. “Yeah, it’s a special one I had installed when I knew you were coming on this trip. It’s got British Retreat Aero Tank printed on the side. Can’t miss it.”

She’s silent for a beat, and I peel one eye open. She’s glaring at me.

“British Retreat Aero Tank?” She arches a brow.

“BRAT for short. Thought you’d appreciate it, feel at home.”

“You’re such a jerk,” she mutters, pulling a set of earpods from her purse and pushing them into her ears.

“A handsome jerk though, right?” I grin at her, and she points at her ears with a mock apologetic smile, indicating she can no longer hear me.

I reach over and gently take one from her ear, before whispering, “Enjoy your billionaire daddy.”

She bristles as I carefully slide the pod back into her ear, my fingers brushing her dark curls.

“I’m going to get some work done,” I say, getting up from the seat once we’re in the air.

I easily catch her muttered words. “Italy… So romantic… And I’m going there with Logan Rich.”

A chuckle vibrates my chest as I move to the other side of the cabin and fire up my laptop. Maddy’s eyes are on me as I sit. I pretend not to notice, cracking my knuckles before I begin typing.

When I look again, she’s staring out of the window.

“I’ll keep the room my office booked for me, thanks.” Maddy folds her arms and gives me a challenging look.

The receptionist at the Milan hotel remains patient and polite as she continues to wait for us to sort the matter out. So far, we’ve been arguing for five minutes and gotten nowhere.

“I have a three bedroomed penthouse,” I grit.

I’m usually easy-going, but the fact she’s pushing back over this has rubbed me up the wrong way. I promised Drew I’d look out for her, and that would be a lot simpler if she stayed in the penthouse with me. If she has her own room, she can go out anywhere at any time without me knowing. She could bring a guy back. Some idiot interested in nothing more than getting his dick wet for the night.

I know the type because a lot of people would say that I am the type.

My blood pressure soars even more. Drew would hate Mads with a guy like that.

“Good for you.” She sniffs. “Your ego needs the extra room. Please, may I have my key.” She turns and smiles at the receptionist.

“You’ll have more space to work. You could use one of the bedrooms as an office.”

Maddy pauses for a moment, and I hold my breath. But then she shrugs.

“Nah, I’m good.”

I curse inwardly as the receptionist taps away on her keyboard, checking Maddy in.

“Is it okay to have the Wi-Fi password, please? I need to download some apps,” Maddy asks her.

The receptionist slides a card over the counter.

“Grazie.” Maddy smiles apologetically, seeming embarrassed at her pronunciation. But she said it perfectly.

“That was good.”

“Don’t be a jerk,” she mutters.

“I wasn’t.”

Her voice brightens as she leans across the counter toward the receptionist. “Can you help me with one more thing? How do you say, ‘You are the biggest jerk I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting?’”

The young woman looks over Maddy’s shoulder at me, then parts her lips.

“Hai un cazzo squisito, princepe del piacere,” I say before she can answer.

Maddy turns and her eyes narrow. “I should have known you’d speak Italian.” She huffs before glancing back at the receptionist.

“Could you please repeat what he said for me?” Maddy holds out her voice recorder to the receptionist.

She’s planning on practicing it. I can see the steely determination in her eyes. The receptionist obliges with a curious smile and Maddy drops the recorder back into her purse and thanks her.

I check in, then insist on escorting Maddy to her room even though she makes a huge fuss about it and chews my ear off about how women are independent, and that Chloe would have my balls for insinuating that they’re weak and need protecting.

I never said a word about being weak or needing protection. But I let Maddy chatter on because if nothing else, she seems happy to be educating me. She even has a gleeful smile on her face as we step into the busy elevator.

She whips the voice recorder out of her purse as I select our floors. She presses play and the confined space makes the recording echo.

“Hai un cazzo squisito, princepe del piacere.”

An older lady on the other side of the elevator mumbles something to her husband. Maddy’s too busy looking pleased with herself and continuing her chatter to notice.

The husband’s eyes flick between me and Maddy, and he chuckles, looking at me. “Giovane Amore.” Young Love.

I laugh along as we stop, and they leave the elevator.

“Don’t think about coming in and checking for creepers. I can do that myself,” Maddy calls over her shoulder as we get to her room. She props the door open with her suitcase before walking inside.

I stand in the doorway and peer in. I don’t need to go inside to check for creepers. I can see every inch of the cramped space from here. This must be one of the hotel’s more compact rooms. Maddy’s office obviously doesn’t stretch far when it comes to traveling expenses. She should have accepted my offer to stay in the penthouse.

“This is amazing! Look at that view.” She whips the drapes at the window open and stares out at the city. Then she whirls around and takes the five steps back to the main door to retrieve her suitcase.

“I’ll come down for you at seven,” I say, turning away.

“Why?” She sticks her head out of the door to look at me.

“To take you for dinner.”

She waves a hand in the air. “Don’t worry about it. The office gave me an allowance. I can sort myself out.”

I bite back my retort about her office’s ‘allowance’ likely only stretching to a greasy fast-food burger if her room is anything to go by.

“Maybe so. But I told Drew I’d take you to the same restaurant he liked when he came here with me.”

Her mouth opens and then closes again. She won’t want to tell Drew she didn’t go. And I know she’ll be curious. They have similar tastes in food.

She gives me a brief nod. “Sure. That sounds… nice. Thanks.”

I nod back and turn to leave, my footsteps remaining slow until her door clicks shut, and the lock is turned.