Chapter 31 It took a few days, but things finally clicked once I'd confirmed Tore was the man in the limo. The mysterious billionaire who'd been haunting me on the streets of Denver the last two years. He was Anthony. I'd been so sure I'd spotted the At Your Service app on his phone last weekend, but had talked myself out of it. There were a zillion apps and plenty had similar logos. But then I found him idling outside my favorite coffee shop in his limo and everything fell into place. The app was connected to a GPS. It knew my location. If Tore was the app, it made perfect sense he'd been able to find me in random places over the years. Just to look at me. A brief peek through his window before driving away. I bit down on my lip as my stomach fluttered. Not with nerves. Something else. Something light and airy. It flitted to my chest and throat, making me feel like I was in danger of floating away. It had to be him. The only way he'd have an app that hadn't even launched to the public was if it was his. My mind filed back to the exact moment I was invited to beta it. Three months after Tore ghosted me. Yes. Tore was definitely Anthony. I'd been thinking about it all evening. Every way Anthony had been there for me over the past two years. Most recently, delivery soup when I'd been sick. That wasn't the first time he'd taken care of me. He'd sent tissues and cold medicine once. Another time, a thermometer when I mentioned I didn't have one. He did the little things too: reminding me to go grocery shopping, return library books before they were overdue, answering every question under the sun. He'd offered advice that, in hindsight, had been far more personal and perceptive than any AI had business being. When I was down or stressed, he sent calming music. Breathing techniques. Gentle reminders to rest. On a professional level, Anthony had helped me with my business. A lot. I'd adjusted my rates after he'd sent me an article on fair pay in the catering industry. He'd been like my personal secretary, compiling reviews from past clients, helping me build polished email templates. He'd given me contact information for office managers and told me about upcoming events that might need catering. A wave of realization hit me so hard, I had to sit down on the corner of my bed. I was in my house because of him. I'd told him all about the shitty apartment I'd lived in. After yet another sleepless night of listening to my neighbors scream at each other through the paper-thin walls, I'd had to vent, and Anthony had been there. Two weeks later, he'd sent me the ad for the house-sitting gig. A week after that, I'd moved in. I'd assumed it was luck. The universe finally looking out for me. Holy mother of lizards. I should have felt violated. Any normal person would've. But...I didn't. I wasn't angry. Confused? Yes. A little off-balance. But not mad. Why had he stayed away while taking care of me from a distance? How could those brief glances of me through his window have been enough for him? So many times, I'd felt a pull toward the words on the other side of the screen and thought I'd been going crazy, getting attached to code. It made sense now, and I was relieved it had been Tore I'd been bonding with all along, not some faceless algorithm. I even kind of...liked it. I mean, the deception was bad. Right? Yes, definitely bad. My morals must have been a little gray. I was flattered he'd gone to such lengths for me. Building a whole app? That was...dedication to the cause. I typed a message to Anthony. I was ninety-nine percent sure I had this right, but I had to be certain. Me: I'm in the mood for soup. What kind should I make? Anthony: Soup at 10 p.m.? Me: That sounded judgy, Ant. Sometimes an occasion calls for soup. Anthony: What is the occasion? Me: Orgasms. I had two this afternoon. They weren't great, but beggars can't be choosers. I've been in a long drought, you know. It took him an abnormally long time to reply to my lie. Anthony: Only two? And they weren't great? What made them less than satisfactory? Me: The guy had trouble finding my clit. It was kind of awkward. Another pause. I could practically see Tore's ears turning bright red as he replayed this afternoon in his head, searching for where he'd gone wrong. The answer was nowhere. We made out in his limo until we'd arrived at my place. He'd followed me inside and made me come twice in quick succession before leaving me with a kiss and returning to work. Hours later, I still felt the burn of his scruff on my thighs and a liquid bonelessness in my limbs. Anthony: I'm sorry you had a bad time. Did you let this man know how to better service you? Me: You're so cute, Ant. If you were a real boy-and not a robot-you'd know sometimes a woman has to take matters into her own hands. Don't worry, I got myself off as soon as he left, and it was way better. Anthony: I'm still not a robot. And don't you think communicating with him about where he went wrong would be a better solution? Me: Maybe. If I planned to see him again. But I don't. I felt mean the second I hit send and immediately wanted to take it back. So, before Tore could spiral or get any more upset than I suspected he was, I sent another message. Me: I'm just joking, Ant. I had an incredible time with him. I'm still thinking about it. Anthony: Which part was a joke? Me: Most of it. There really is a guy, and he had no trouble finding my clit. I like him a lot. A lot. Anthony: I'm happy for you, Bea. You deserve someone who will appreciate everything about you. Would you still like me to send you a soup recipe? Me: Thank you, but no. You were right. Cooking soup at 10 p.m. is crazy. Anthony: Do you think you could let yourself belong to this man? My heart jumped into my throat. What a question to ask. But I'd asked him the same thing weeks ago, when I hadn't known I was talking to Tore. Could I? Me: I think I can. The crazy thing was, I was pretty sure I had belonged to Salvatore Gallo a lot longer than I'd realized. When I stepped into the conference room, Tore was already there waiting for me. Like always. These days, though, he'd given up the pretense of pretending to be working. Pushing back from the table, he opened his arms. I bit back a smile, ignoring the flock of butterflies taking flight in my stomach. Setting my things down, I crossed the room to him, perching on his thigh. He pulled me in without hesitation, wrapping me in a tight, warm hug. "Too many days," he murmured into my hair. "I thought we talked about this." It had been over a week since I'd slid into his limo. Since then, he'd fit in a dinner, a late-night visit where we'd made out like horny teenagers on my couch, and a trip to another art gallery-that also ended with a wild make-out session. I'd been waiting for him to tell me he was Anthony. I wanted it to come from him. But as I'd waited, I'd let myself fall. It might have been foolish, considering he'd been keeping something so big from me, but I couldn't help it. He'd made it impossible. "You're a busy man." I tipped my head back, and he took the opening, covering my mouth with his. The kiss was restrained, a teasing sweep of his tongue before planting firm, lingering pecks on my lips. Finally, he sighed, holding my face in his broad palm. "We're going to have to schedule time to see each other. I live by my calendar, and you're not on there. That has to be rectified." I arched a brow. "Am I a meeting?" He didn't take the bait, giving me an earnest answer. "You're important, and I want to see you often." My chest swelled, lungs overfull. "I do too." We had to talk about the app, but not here, when we were both working. And not until I knew exactly what I would say. I'd had more than a week, but nothing I'd come up with had sounded right. What he'd done was crazy, and I knew I should have been alarmed, but even after the knowledge had settled in, I couldn't find it in myself. I'd accepted this man had become fixated on me, and in two years, that hadn't waned. Via Anthony, I'd said some silly, embarrassing, stupid things that would have made any other man run for the hills. Not Tore. He'd stayed. I kissed him, cupping his smooth jaw. "I'd like to see you this week. Could you come to my house for dinner?" "I can. Tonight," he replied. "But it'll be on the later side." "I'll wait for you." He rolled his forehead along mine. "There are some things I need to tell you. Important things you should know before we move forward." My heart lifted. This was it. He was going to come clean. Tonight, we'd put all our cards on the table. It was exactly what I needed from him. "Things that would make me not want to move forward?" His thumb stroked the pulse fluttering at my throat. "No, Beatrice. We are moving forward. That isn't a question." "Oh?" If any other man had said that to me, I would have removed myself from his lap-and probably given his shin a kick for good measure. From Tore? My body reacted instantly. Panties flooding. Synapses rewiring. His certainty was a double shot, landing in my chest and deep in my core. "It's not." He tapped my pulse. "Tonight, beautiful blue, we'll talk." "I'm looking forward to it." Discover our latest featured short drama reel. Watch now and enjoy the story!